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SURRY  OF  EAGLE'S-NEST 


OR 


THE  MEMOIRS  OF  A  STAFF-OFFICER 

SERVING  IN  VIRGINIA 


EDITED,    FROM   THE   MSS.    OF   COLONEL   SURRY 

By  JOHN  ESTEN  COOKE 

AUTHOR   OP    "FAIRFAX,"    "HILT  TO   HILT,"    "MOHUN,"    "  OUT   OF  THE  FOAM," 
"HAMMER  AND  RAPIER,"  ETC.,  ETC 


ILLUSTRATED 


M£ 


NEW    YORK: 

G.    IV.    Dillingham,    Publisher, 

Successor  to  G.  W.  Carleton  &  Co. 

MDCCCLXXXIX. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  186(5, 
By  BUNCE  &  HUNTINGTON, 

In  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  United  States  for  the  Southern 

District  of  New  York. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1889, 

BY  G.  W.  DILLINGHAM, 

In  the  Office  of  the  Librarian  of  Congress,  at  Washington. 


SURRY  OF  EAGLE'S-NEST. 


i. 

THE    SURRYS. 


Having  returned  to  "Eagle's-Nest,"  and  hung  up  a  dingy 
gray  uniform  and  battered  old  sabre  for  the  inspection  of  my 
descendants,  I  propose  to  employ  some  leisure  hours  in  record- 
ing my  recollections,  and  describing,  while  they  are  fresh  in  my 
memory,  a  few  incidents  of  the  late  Eevolution. 

This  will  not  be  a  task,  my  dear,  unknown  reader — rather  an 
amusement ;  for  nothing  delights  more  your  old  soldier  returned 
from  the  wars  than  to  fight  his  battles  o'er  again,  boast  of  his 
exploits,  and  tell  the  children  and  grandchildren,  clustering 
in  fancy  around  his  knees,  what  wonders  he  has  seen,  and  how 
many  heroic  deeds  he  has  performed. 

I  think  those  dear,  coming  grandchildren  will  take  an  interest 
in  my  adventures.  They  will  belong  to  the  fresh,  new  genera- 
tion, and  all  the  jealousies,  hatreds,  and  corroding  passions  of 
the  present  epoch  will  have  disappeared  by  that  time.  Simple 
curiosity  will  replace  the  old  hatred ;  the  bitter  antagonism  of 
the  partisan  will  yield  to  the  philosophic  interest  of  the  student, 
and  the  events  and  personages  of  this  agitated  period  will  be 
calmly  discussed  by  the  winter  fireside.  How  Lee  looked,  and 
Stuart  spoke — how  Jackson  lived  that  wondrous  life  of  his,  and 
Ashby  charged  upon  his  milk-white  steed — of  this  the  coming 
generations  will  talk,  and  I  think  they  will  take  more  interest  in 
such  things  than  in  the  most  brilliant  arguments  about  secession. 

Therefore,  good  reader,  whom  I  will  never  see  in  the  flesh,  I 
am  going  to  make  some  pictures,  if  I  can,  of  what  I  have  seen. 
1* 


10  SURRY  OF    EAGLE'S-NEST. 

Come!  perhaps  as  you  follow  me  you  will  live  in  the  stormy 
days  of  a  convulsed  epoch,  breathe  its  fiery  atmosphere,  and  see 
its  mighty  forms  as  they  defile  before  you,  in  a  long  and  noble 
line.  To  revive  those  days,  surround  you  with  that  atmos- 
phere, and  reproduce  those  figures  which  have  descended  into 
the  tomb,  is  the  aim  which  I  propose  to  myself  in  writing  these 
memoirs. 

I  foresee  that  the  number  of  "IV  I  shall  employ  will  be 
enormous,  and  beyond  a  peradventure  you  will  call  me  egotis- 
tical ;  but  how  can  the  use  of  that  stiff,  erect  character  be  done 
away  with  in  an  autobiography?     Be  magnanimous,  therefore, 

0  kindly  reader,  and  regard  me  as  a  friend  who  is  telling  you 
his  adventures,  not  as  an  author  composing  a  feigned  history. 
It  is  only  a  poor  "prisoner  on  parole"  who  is  talking:  leave 
him  that  one  resource  to  while  away  the  time — that  single  con- 
solation. We  sit  on  the  old  porch  at  Eagle's  Nest;  yonder 
flows  the  Rappahannock ;  the  oaks  sigh;  the  sunshine  laughs — so 

1  begin. 

I  always  heard  that  the  first  of  the  Surrys  in  Virginia  was 
Philip,  the  son  of  Philip,  and  that  he  took  refuge  here  when  the 
head  of  Charles  I.  went  to  the  block.  This  Cavalier  was 
a  gay  gallant,  the  family  legend  says,  and  did  much  hard  riding 
and  fighting  under  Prince  Rupert ;  but  the  royal  banner  drooped, 
the  Roundhead  pikes  carried  the  day;  and,  collecting  such  money 
and  jewels  as  he  could  lay  his  hands  on,  Colonel  Philip  Surry 
repaired  to  the  head-quarters  of  Cavalierdom,  Virginia.  Here 
everything  suited  him.  Cavalier  faces  were  seen  everywhere, 
land  was  cheap,  and  foxes  abounded ;  so  he  built  this  house  of 
"  Eagle's-Nest "  below  Port  Royal,  on  a  hill  above  the  Rappa- 
hannock, gave  it  the  name  of  the  family  estate  in  England,  and, 
collecting  a  number  of  thorough-breds,  and  a  pack  of  hounds, 
married  and  settled  down.  All  I  have  heard  of  him  thereafter 
may  be  stated  in  a  few  words:  he  went  with  Richard  Lee  to  see 
Charles  II.,  then  in  exile  at  Breda,  where  he  offered  to  proclaim 
the  youth  King  of  England  and  Virginia  at  Williamsburg. 
When  his  offer  was  not  accepted,  he  returned  to  Eagle's-Nest, 
where   he   dedicated   his   energies   to  fox-hunting    and   raising 


THE    SURRYS.  11 

Wood  horses  for  the  remainder  of  his  life.  His  portrait  hangs  on 
the  wall  here — a  proud,  handsome  face,  with  blue  eyes,  pointed 
beard,  black  mustache,  and  broad  shoulders  covered  with  Venice 
lace  falling  over  a  hauberk  of  steel;  in  the  hand  is  a  hat  with 
a  black,  trailing  feather.  There  is  Colonel  Philip  Surry,  dead  this 
many  a  day. 

He  left  in  his  will  the  curious  injunction  that  the  eldest  son  of 
the  family  in  every  generation  should  sign  his  name,  "  Surry  of 
Eagle's-Nest;"  so  my  father  always  called  himself,  and  I  have 
followed  the  family  habit.  My  father  was  the  fifth  or  sixth  in 
descent  from  Philip  I.,  and  bore  his  name.  He  was  the  soul  of 
benevolence  and  kindness.  Intellectually,  he  was  the  greatest 
man  I  ever  knew.  At  the  bar  of  the  Court  of  Appeals  of  Vir- 
ginia he  ranked  with  the  old  race  of  lawyers,  Marshall,  "Wirt, 
"Wickham,  and  Leigh — all  his  intimate  friends;  but  as  his  hair 
had  grown  gray  he  had  retired  from  the  profession,  and  spent  his 
days  at  home  in  the  country.  He  has  died  since  the  beginning 
of  the  war,  but  his  portrait  is  yonder,  a  tall  and  stately  figure, 
with  a  noble  countenance,  clear  loyal  eyes,  and  a  smile  of  exqui- 
site sweetness.  He  is  gone  now,  like  all  the  Surrys  of  the  past, 
but  his  memory  still  lives.  His  intellect  was  so  powerful,  his 
temper  so  sweet  and  kind,  that  the  first  men  of  his  age  saluted 
him  with  respect,  and  I  never  knew  a  lady  or  a  child  not  to  love 
him.  He  belonged  to  that  old  generation  of  Virginians  who  have 
disappeared,  and  the  sun  to-day,  I  think,  shines  nowhere  on  his 
like. 

I  shall  only  add  to  this  family  sketch  the  statement  that  my 
dear  mother,  who  died  in  my  boyhood,  was  Mary  Aunesley,  of 
Princess  Anne,  and  that  she  had  but  two  children  besides  myself. 
One  of  these  was  my  sister  Annie,  about  sixteen  years  of  age 
when  the  war  began ;  and  the  other,  my  younger  brother,  was 
only  nineteen  at  that  time,  but  a  graduate  of  West  Point,  and  a 
lieutenant  in  the  United  States  army. 

Such  was  the  origin  of  the  writer  of  the  present  memoirs, 
and  from  this  point  of  view  he  looked  upon  the  struggle  which 
was  approaching. 


12  SURRY   OF  EAGLE'S-NEST. 

II. 

IN  WHICH  THE  WRITER  OMITS  A  NUMBER  OP  THINGS. 

I  have  not  the  least  intention  of  inflicting  upon  the  reader  an 
account  of  my  childhood,  boyhood,  or  early  manhood,  spent  at 
"Eagle's-Nest."  It  would  not  interest  deeply — that  life  of  a 
child  who  ran  laughing  and  singing  through  the  grounds  of  an  old 
house,  or  conned  his  lessons  at  his  dear  mother's  knee — who  lis- 
tened to  the  murmur  of  the  Rappahannock  flowing  past  the  lofty 
hill,  and  dreamed  his  idle  dreams  of  far-off  lands — who  rode  all 
the  colts  he  could  catch,  and  was  thrown  by  them,  spun  his  top, 
tore  his  clothes^  and  drew  down  the  denunciations  of  his  gray- 
haired  "mammy."  Nor  would  the  life  of  the  youth  and  man 
prove  more  interesting. 

All  these  details  would  be  charming,  my  dear  reader,  if 
Colonel  Surry  was  anybody — a  great  warrior,  statesman,  or  gen- 
eral— and  was  dead.  But  he  is  none  of  these,  and  fortunately 
still  lives;  so  all  these  particulars  of  his  youth  are  omitted.  The 
flowers  bloomed  brighter  then,  and  the  song  of  the  birds  was 
sweeter;  but  that  wa's  in  my  childhood,  not  in  yours,  reader. 
Mine  for  myself-— yours  for  you,  friend.  Let  us  dream  of  the 
dead  days  sometimes,  as  the  comedy  of  life  plays  before  us  and 
the  voices  laugh — we  will  never  see  those  days  any  more,  except 
in  dreams ! 

I  spent  one  session  at  the  Virginia  Military  Institute ;  studied 
law  at  the  University ;  commenced  the  practice  in  Essex  and  the 
surrounding  counties — and  in  1861,  at  the  age  of  twenty-five, 
saw  the  country  about  to  be  plunged  into  war. 

Fill  that  hiatus  with  the  hundred  octavo  volumes  which  will 
ba  written  on  the  causes  of  what  our  friends  across  the  border 
call  the  "Great  Rebellion."  In  the  present  memoirs  I  intend  to 
weary  neither  myself  nor  the  reader  with  that  discussion.  Let 
others  trace  back  the  torrent  to  its  source — laboriously  demon- 
strating how  18G1  was  the  logical  result  of  1820 — and  show  how 


HOT  BLOOD.  13 

the  antagonism  of  race  and  opinion  became  the  antagonism  of  the 
bayonet.  This  is  not  the  place  for  that  logomachy.  I  who  write 
am  as  firm  to-day  in  my  conviction  of  the  right  of  secession  as 
yesterday,  or  five  years  ago.  But  the  question  has  been  tried — the 
issue  is  dead,  for  the  present,  and  let  it  rest.  Besides,  you  know 
all  that  story  now,  reader  mine — how  the  whole  North  roared 
at  the  wicked  South,  and  John  Brown  with  the  pike  carried  out 
what  Bielper  wrote  with  the  pen.  In  1860  the  beginning  of  the 
end  came.  The  "Republicans"  triumphed:  the  Gulf  States  de- 
clared that  the  Union  was  dissolved — and,  asserting  their  right 
to  shape  their  own  destiny,  prepared  to  support  their  action  with 
the  sword. 

Where  was  Virginia?  it  may  be  asked.  I  reply  that  she  was 
trying  to  command  the  peace,  vainly  supposing  that  this  storm 
could  be  hushed.  I  blamed  her  then,  when  my  blood  was  hot — 
now  I  think  that  she  acted  with  her  ancient  courage  and  dignity. 
The  Virgin  of  her  shield  would  not  lightly  touch  the  sword,  be- 
cause, when  once  she  drew  it,  she  meant  to  throw  away  the 
scabbard. 

Whether  she  kept  that  resolution,  let  the  blood  and  tears  and 
desolation  of  four  terrible  years,  in  which  she  never  shrank  be- 
fore her  foe,  declare. 


III. 

HOT   BLOOD. 

Richmond,  which  I  visited  at  this  stormy  period,  was  the  fiery 
heart  from  which  flowed  the  blood  of  Revolution. 

What  a  change  had  passed  over  the  quiet  old  place  !  In  past 
years  the  city  was  the  picture  of  repose.  The  white  walls  of  the 
Capitol  rose  from  the  deep-green  foliage,  silent,  except  when  some 
aspiring  young  legislator  thundered  in  his  maiden  speech :  the 
falls  of  James  River  sent  upon  the  air  their  soft  and  lulling  mur- 
mur :  the  birds  sang  in  the  trees  of  the  Capitol  Square :  children 


14  SURRY  OF  EAGLE'S-NEST. 

played  there :  the  clouds  floated :  Richmond  was  all  good-nature 
and  repose. 

Now  this  was  a  tradition — a  lost  page  in  her  history.  Fierce 
agitation  had  replaced  the  old  tranquillity ;  and  in  the  streets,  the 
hotels,  the  drawing-rooms,  nothing  was  heard  but  hot  discussion. 
Men's  pulses  were  feverish.  Neighbors  of  opposite  views  scowled 
fiercely  at  each  other.  Young  ladies  wore  the  Southern  colors, 
and  would  turn  their  pretty  backs  upon  an  admirer  who  was  not 
for  secession.  The  cockade  of  South  Carolina — a  red  rosette  with 
a  palmetto  tree  upon  it — was  everywhere  worn ;  and  upon  the 
wearers  the  advocates  of  the  old  order  of  things  looked  with  ill- 
concealed  hostility. 

Meanwhile,  the  Convention,  of  which  my  father  was  a  mem- 
ber, thundered  on  from  day  to  day:  the  press  poured  forth  its 
lava :  the  stump  resounded  with  denunciations :  and  society  was 
evidently  approaching  one  of  those  epochs  when,  having  ex- 
hausted the  powers  of  the  tongue,  the  human  animal  has  re- 
course to  the  sword. 

Altogetber,  the  period  was  jovial  and  inspiring  ;  and  I  declare 
to  you,  reader,  that  I  would  like  to  live  it  over,  and  hear  the 
bands  play  "Dixie  "  again,  under  the  "  bonnie  blue  flag!" 

The  hot  current  dragged  me,  and  I  speedily  had  a  rencontre 
which  was  not  without  importance  in  its  bearing  on  my  future. 

I  was  sitting  in  the  public  room  of  my  hotel,  on  an  afternoon 
of  April,  when  a  party  of  young  men  came  in,  and  among  them 
I  recognized  a  former  acquaintance  at  the  University,  named 
Baskerville.  I  had  never  liked  him,  and  he  was  generally  un- 
popular, in  consequence  of  his  arrogance — the  result,  it  was  said, 
of  very  great  wealth.  As  I  glanced  at  him  now,  his  appearance 
did  not  falsify  the  report.  His  costume  was  dazzling ;  his  shirt 
bosom  sparkled  with  diamond  studs ;  his  hands  were  encased  in 
yellow  kid  gloves ;  and  he  carried  a  small  ratan  with  a  golden 
head.  Baskerville  was  about  twenty-six,  tall,  straight,  and  ex- 
ceedingly handsome — but  as  arrogant  in  his  bearing  as  a  patrician 
among  the  common  people.     It  was  overpowering ! 

Such  was  the  figure  which  came  into  the  room  where  I  was 
Bitting,  and  began  talking  politics. 


HOT  BLOOD 


15 


His  denunciations  of  secession  and  secessionists  were  bitter 
and  violent ;  and  his  laughing  companions  seemed  to  be  urging 
him  on.  From  secession,  the  abstract,  he  passed  to  the  cockades, 
the  concrete ;  and  denounced  their  wearers  as  "  shallow-brained 
traitors,  who  would  suffer  for  their  folly."  As  I  was  wearing  a 
cockade,  though  it  was  invisible  to  the  speaker,  I  did  not  much 
relish  this,  but  I  controlled  my  temper — when  all  at  once  Basker- 
ville  uttered  some  words  which  I  could  not  possibly  pass  over. 

"  I  heard  a  speech  in  the  Convention  to-day  which  deserves 
the  halter,"  he  said  arrogantly. 

"Who  delivered  it?"  asked  another  of  the  party. 

"  That  old  traitor  Surry  !" 

"When  he  said  that,  I  got  up  and  went  to  the  place  where  he 
was  standing. 

"That  is  my  father,  sir,"  I  said. 

His  reply  was  a  haughty  stare  and  the  words,  "I  am  not 
acquainted  with  you,  sir!" 

"  You  lie,"  I  said,  "  you  recognize  me  perfectly ; — but  that  is 
not  what  I  wanted  to  say.  You  call  me  a  'shallow-brained 
traitor '  for  wearing  a  cockade — which  proves  to  me  that  you 
are  a  fool.  You  insult  the  gray  hairs  of  my  father — that  con- 
vinces me  that  you  are  a  coward." 

******* 

The  above  asterisks  are  gracefully  substituted  for  what  almost 
immediately  followed.  The  by-standers  speedily  "  separated  the 
combatants,"  as  the  newspapers  say;  and,  informing  my  adver- 
sary that  I  could  be  found  at  No.  45  in  the  hotel,  I  went  to  my 
chamber,  to  avoid  the  crowd  which  began  to  collect. 

I  fully  expected  a  message  from  Baskerville ;  but  none  came 
that  evening,  or  the  next  morning.  Tired  of  waiting,  I  was 
about  to  go  out,  when  a  card  was  handed  to  me ;  and  enter  a 
few  moments  afterward,  one  of  the  party  of  the  previous  even- 
ing— a  young  gentleman  elegantly  clad. 

At  the  grave  and  ceremonious  air  of  my  reception  he  began 
to  laugh. 

"Excuse  me,  Mr.  Surry,"  he  said,  "but  you  are  evidently 
laboring  under  a  slight  misapprehension.     I  have  not  come  as 


16  SURRY  OF  EAGLE'S-NEST. 

Mr.  Baskerville's  representative  to  bring  you  a  challenge — but 
simply  to  make  a  friendly  visit,  at  the  risk,  however,  of  appear- 
ing intrusive." 

"Not  at  all,  sir,"  I  said,  "  but  I  naturally  supposed " 

" That  Baskerville  would  fight?  Well,  you  thought  wrong," 
was  the  gay  reply  of  my  visitor,  who  balanced  himself,  with  an 
air  of  the  most  graceful  insouciance,  npon  his  chair.  "  Our  dear 
friend  is  a  man  of  peace,  not  war — he  insults  people,  but  he 
does  not  fight.  I  have  seen  him  this  morning,  and  he  declares 
that  he  remembers  nothing  whatever  of  the  little  affair  of  yes- 
terday— says  he  was  inebriated,  which  is  a  truly  shocking  thing 
— and  professes  that  he  had  no  quarrel  whatever  with  you,  or 
anybody  else." 

With  which  words  my  visitor  began  to  laugh,  in  a  manner  so 
careless  and  good-humored  that  it  was  impossible  not  to  do  like- 
wise. When  he  left  me  an  hour  afterward,  the  whole  affair  ap- 
peared like  a  joke,  and  I  forgot  it. 

But  Baskerville  was  to  have  far  more  to  do  with  my  life  than 
I  dreamed  at  that  moment.  Many  an  inward  groan  was  to 
salute  the  very  mention  of  his  name. 


IY. 

A   PAIR    OF   EYES. 

Three  days  after  tins  scene,  I  bad  reason  to  be  exceedingly 
sorry  that  I  had  quarrelled  with  Baskerville. 

It  was  at  that  time  the  habit  of  the  young  ladies  of  the  city  to 
promenade  with  their  gallants  upon  the  Capitol  Square  in  the 
evening,  and  enjoy  the  music  of  a  fine  brass  band  which  played 
from  a  rostrum  opposite  the  City  Hall. 

The  scene  at  such  moments  was  really  charming.  The  white 
walls  of  the  Capitol  rose  dreamily  in  the  moonlight ;  the  great 
bronze  Washington  towered  above  ;  bright  forms  moved  to  and 
fro  beneath  the  moon  ;  eyes  sparkled ;  smiles  shone !  O  summer 


-1- 


A  PAIR  OF  EYES.  17 

night,  with  that  wondrous  moon  !  whither  have  you  flown  with 
the  curls  that  lay  in  masses  on  those  snowy  shoulders? 

One  evening  I  went  to  listen  to  the  music,  and,  lost  in  the 
crowd  in  front  of  the  rostrum  occupied  by  the  musicians,  was 
enjoying  that  sad  and  beautiful  air,  the  "Mocking  Bird" — when, 
all  at  once,  I  saw  in  front  of  me  a  face  so  lovely  that  something 
like  a  thrill  passed  through  my  frame. 

It  was  the  face  of  a  girl — let  me  try  and  draw  her  outline. 
Fancy  a  maiden  of  about  nineteen,  with  a  figure  rounded,  slen- 
der, and  as  flexible  as  the  stem  of  the  river-flag — waving  hair  of 
a  deep  chestnut,  twisted  up  into  a  shining  braid  on  the  snowy 
neck;  and  eyes — ah,  those  eyes! — they  were  languishing,  bril- 
liant, and  of  an  intense  and  dazzling  violet — that  tint  which  the 
summer  sky  wears  when  the  purple  of  the  sunset  dashes  against 
the  blue.  That  face  and  those  eyes  possessed  a  haunting  beauty 
such  as  I  had  never  before  seen  in  woman.  As  she  stood  there 
in  the  moonlight,  keeping  time  with  her  slipper  to  the  strains  of 
the  "Mocking  Bird,"  I  thought  she  was  some  fairy — not  a  girl 
of  flesh  and  blood ! 

Such  was  the  exquisite  face — and  now  do  you  ask,  how  I  saw 
her  eyes?  I  was  gazing  at  the  clear  and  elegant  profile  half 
turned  from  me,  when  some  sound  behind  the  girl  attracted  her 
attention,  and  she  turned  her  head.  For  an  instant  those  won- 
drous eyes  met  mine — then  they  were  withdrawn,  and  I  heard 
her  utter  some  cold  words  to  the  gentleman  upon  whose  arm  she 
leaned. 

I  looked  at  him — I  had  not  wasted  a  glance  upon  him  before. 
It  was  Baskerville. 

Nothing  could  be  more  unfortunate.  I  had  made  up  my  mind 
to  discover  who  his  companion  was — for  I  had  seen  her  at  none 
of  the  parties  which  I  had  attended — and  now  there  was  an  in- 
separable barrier  in  my  relations  with  her  escort.  I  nevertheless 
determined  to  ascertain  her  name,  and  chance  seemed  about  to 
assist  me.  The  band  soon  ceased  playing ;  the  crowd  began  to 
disperse ;  and  the  young  lady  and  Baskerville  approached  the 
western  gate,  through  which  the  multitude  were  passing.  I  was 
close  behind  them,  and,  just  as  they  reached  the  gate,  observed 


18  SURRY  OF  EAGLE'S-NEST. 

that  she  had  dropped  her  handkerchief.  Here  was  the  opportu- 
nity. She  evidently  did  not  observe  the  accident,  and  I  hastily 
picked  up  the  handkerchief — resolving  to  read  the  name  upon  it, 
and  then  return  it. 

Straining  my  eyes  in  the  moonlight,  I  discovered  in  one  corner 
of  the  little  perfumed  affair  of  lace  and  cambric  the  young  lady's 
initials!  "M.  B.1'  was  all;  and,  disappointed,  I  looked  round 
for  the  owner. 

She  had  disappeared — lost  like  a  flower  amid  the  crowd.  I 
tried  in  vain  to  discover  her ;  and  at  last  gave  up  the  search. 

In  vain  did  I  go  to  every  concert,  every  party,  every  church 
thenceforward — looking  for  her.  She  did  not  reappear.  She 
had  vanished  like  a  dream  of  the  moonlight  night. 

I  ought  to  have  sent  the  handkerchief  to  Baskerville,  you  may 
say,  for  transmission  to  its  owner.  So  I  ought  to  have  done — 
but  I  did  not. 


Y. 

WHAT    I    SAW   ON   THE   BROOK   ROAD. 

The  incident  just  related  made  a  strong  impression  upon  me; 
and  the  face  I  had  thus  caught  a  glimpse  of  in  the  moonlight 
continued  to  haunt  me.  But  an  affair  with  which  I  found  my- 
self mixed  up,  a  few  days  afterward,  for  the  moment  quite 
diverted  my  attention  from  the  owner  of  the  handkerchief. 

Having  brought  an  excellent  riding  horse  from  Essex,  I  was  in 
the  habit  of  riding  out  in  the  evening  for  exercise,  after  the  con- 
finement of  the  Convention.  The  Brook  road,  extending  in  a 
northwestern  direction  from  the  city,  was  a  favorite  ride ;  and 
one  evening  I  went  in  that  direction,  soon  emerging  from-  the 
dusty  streets  into  the  broad  highway,  which  unrolled  itself  like 
a  long  brown  ribbon  upon  a  robe  of  emerald. 

Three  or  four  miles  from  the  city,  near  the  point  where  the 
slender  spire  of  the  Brook  Church  rises  from  the  trees,  a  horse- 
man at  full  gallop  passed  me,  and  descended  the  hill  in  front. 


WHAT  I  SAW   ON  THE  BROOK  ROAD.      19 

As  he  shot  by,  I  could  see  that  lie  was  tall  and  vigorous  ;  his 
face  was  pale ;  and  as  he  fled  onward  he  looked  over  his  shoul- 
der with  the  air  of  one  who  is  pursued. 

Such  proved  to  be  the  fact.  As  he  disappeared  beneath  the 
crest  of  the  hill,  a  second  horseman  appeared  approaching  at  full 
speed  ;  and  he  too  darted  by  and  disappeared  like  a  vision  of  the 
night. 

What  could  all  this  mean  ?  Here  were  evidently  flight  and 
pursuit ;  and  in  the  Middle  Ages,  nothing  would  have  been  more 
natural.  Tben,  gentlemen  rode  down  their  adversaries ;  but,  in 
this  prosaic  age,  men  generally  go  in  pursuit  of  their  loves  or 
vengeances  by  the  railway. 

The  apparition  of  the  two  cavaliers  puzzled  me  so  greatly  that 
I  galloped  on  to  see,  if  possible,  what  would  ensue. 

In  this  I  was  fortunate.  He  who  had  first  appeared  had  de- 
scended the  hill  leading  to  the  brook,  and,  thundering  over  the 
little  rustic  bridge,  would  no  doubt  have  distanced  his  pursuer, 
had  not  an  accident  arrested  him.  His  horse  placed  his  foot 
upon  a  rolling  stone,  stumbled,  and,  falling,  threw  his  rider,  who 
rose  just  as  his  pursuer  came  up.  As  the  latter  approached, 
however,  the  former  drew  from  his  breast  a  paper  which  he  tore 
into  a  hundred  pieces;  after  which  he  folded  his  arms  and  con- 
fronted his  opponent  with  an  air  of  defiance  which  was  discerni- 
ble even  at  the  distance  from  which  I  regarded  the  scene. 

A  brief  parley  followed,  and,  from  the  violence  of  the  gestures 
on  both  sides,  a  personal  collision  appeared  about  to  take  place. 
None  ensued,  however,  and  to  my  surprise  both  horsemen  re- 
mounted, and  returned  toward  the  city. 

As  they  passed  me,  I  could  see  in  the  countenance  of  the  one 
who  had  been  pursued  an  expression  of  sullen  and  bitter  hatred 
— in  the  face  of  the  other  a  gloomy  satisfaction,  something  like 
a  ferocious  joy. 

Such  was  the  curious  incident  I  encountered  in  my  ride.  As 
the  reader  will  soon  perceive,  I  was  destined  to  be  present  at 
the  sequel  of  the  afltair,  and  witness,  if  not  understand,  the  de- 
nouement. 


20  SURRY  OF  EAGLE'S-NEST. 

VI. 

THE    VENDETTA. 

In  the  fine  April  mornings,  often  before  the  sun  had  risen,  I 
was  accustomed  to  take  long  walks,  which  more  than  once  ex- 
tended far  into  the  country. 

At  daylight,  on  the  morning  succeeding  the  scene  just  de- 
scribed, I  know  not  what  chance  directed  my  steps  toward 
Hollywood  Cemetery,  on  the  banks  of  the  James,  above  the 
city. 

Entering  the  grounds,  which  at  that  early  hour  were  quite  de- 
serted, I  strolled  on  to  the  hill  upon  which  Monroe  lies  buried, 
and,  throwing  myself  beneath  a  tall  elm  "which  grows  there, 
gazed  with  admiration  upon  the  fair  landscape.  Below  mur- 
mured the  falls,  foaming  around  the  islands  with  their  drooping 
foliage ;  straight  across  shot  the  long  white  line  of  the  Peters- 
burg bridge,  and  to  the  left  appeared  the  crowding  roofs  of  the 
city,  above  which  rose  the  snow-white  pillars  of  the  Capitol, 
brilliant  in  the  first  rays  of  the  sun. 

I  was  gazing  in  silence  at  this  beautiful  spectacle,  and  listen- 
ing dreamily  to  the  song  of  an  oriole  in  the  elm  above,  when  the 
sound  of  wheels  on  the  gravel  road  by  which  I  had  ascended  the 
hill  attracted  my  attention.  Looking  in  the  direction  of  the  sound, 
I  saw  two  hacks,  from  which  four  gentlemen  descended,  saluting 
each  other  as  they  did  so.  Then,  without  loss  of  time,  they 
ascended  the  hill,  and  the  whole  party  paused  in  an  open  space 
not  ten  yards  from  my  elm.  They  could  not  see  me,  as  I  was 
stretched  upon  the  grass,  and  a  row  of  cedar  bushes  around  a 
group  of  graves  intervened.  But  I  could  see  perfectly,  as  I 
looked  through  an  opening,  and  in  two  of  the  party  recognized 
the  horsemen  of  the  previous  evening. 

These  affairs  are  rarely  private,  and  I  had  no  hesitation  in  re- 
maining. To  this  I  was  impelled  by  a  strong  sentiment  of  curi- 
osity. % 

My  attention  was  immediately  riveted  to  the  face  of  the  pur- 


THE  VENDETTA.  21 

suer  on  the  preceding  evening.  He  was  tall,  powerful,  and  with 
a  face  resembling  bronze.  His  eyes,  as  black  as  night,  sparkled 
under  raven  eyebrows,  and  his  heavy  mustache  and  beard  were 
of  the  same  color.  But  his  expression  was  more  striking  than 
all  else.  Never  have  I  seen  a  fiercer  satisfaction  in  the  human 
face.  A  species  of  instinct  told  me  that  nothing  but  the  gratifi- 
cation of  some  long-brooding  passion— some  cherished  vengeance 
— could  bring  that  gladiator-like  smile  to  the  lips  of  a  human 
being. 

His  opponent's  face  expressed  rather  bitter  hatred  than  satis- 
faction at  the  approaching  encounter.  It  was  plain  from  his 
sullen  and  lowering  brow  that  he  thirsted  for  his  adversary's 
blood,  but  not  so  evident  that  he  welcomed  the  prospect  of  a 
fair  and  open  contest.  With  his  small  keen  eyes,  his  thin  lips, 
and  overhanging  brows,  I  should  have  set  him  down  for  one  who 
would  prefer  doing  away  with  an  enemy  by  treachery — and 
afterward  I  came  to  know  that  this  estimate  of  the  man  was 
entirely  correct. 

It  was  evidently  the  snake  opposed  to  the  tiger — not  so  bold, 
but  equally  dangerous. 

The  preliminaries  were  soon  arranged.  The  seconds  were 
evidently  old  practitioners,  and  their  proceedings  were  matter-of- 
fact  and  business-like. 

"This  spot,  I  think,  is  suitable,"  said  one  of  them,  "except 
for  that  ugly  object  there."  And  he  pointed  to  a  newly-dug 
grave. 

"It  is  a  matter  of  indifference  to  us,  sir,"  returned  the  other 
second,  "as  the  fire  will  naturally  be  across  the  line  of  the 
sun." 

"  That  is  just,  sir,  and  if  entirely  agreeable  to  you,  we  will 
now  proceed." 

His  associate  bowed,  and  they  proceeded  to  measure  off  the 
ground.  The  sound  of  pistols  striking  against  their  case  was 
then  heard,  and  the  click  of  the  triggers  as  they  were  tried. 
A  short  pause  then  followed — they  were  loading  the  weapons. 
When  this  was  accomplished,  they  were  handed  to  the  principals. 

One  of  the  seconds  then  said  : 


22  SURRY  OF  EAGLE'S-NEST. 

"  Gentlemen,  I  shall  give  the  word,  which  will  be,  '  Are  you 
ready?  Fire!  One,  two,  three' — the  fire  to  be  delivered  after 
the  word  '  one  '  and  before  the  word  'three.'  " 

The  principals  listened  in  silence,  standing  half-faced  to  the 
right  and  left,  the  weapons  pointed  toward  the  ground. 

"  Before,  however,  this  affair  proceeds  further,"  continued  the 
speaker,  "I  consider  it  my  duty  to  make  a  statement  in  the 
hearing  of  all.  I  was  called  on  last  night  by  Mr.  Fenwick,  with 
whom  I  have  only  a  slight  acquaintance,"  and  the  speaker  turned 
toward  the  individual  pursued  and  overtaken  on  the  Brook  road 
— "  who  requested  that  I  would  act  for  him  in  an  affair  to  take 
place  this  morning.  I  consented  with  pleasure,  but  to  my  sur- 
prise was  informed  by  Mr.  Fenwick  that  he  could  not  state  the 
cause  of  the  meeting — he  could  only  assure  me  that  it  was  un- 
avoidable. I  need  not  say,  gentlemen,  that  such  a  state  of  things 
is  awkward.  The  affair  is  wholly  informal.  No  correspondence 
can  hereafter  be  published,  and  both  principals  and  seconds  may  be 
placed  in  a  most  disagreeable  position.  I  yielded  to  Mr.  Fenwick's 
representations  that  he  was  an  entire  stranger  and  knew  scarcely 
any  one  besides  myself;  but  I  again  ask  that  the  grounds  of  the 
present  meeting  may  be  stated,  in  order  that  the  affair  may  be 
honorably  arranged,  or,  in  case  it  unfortunately  is  obliged  to 
proceed,  that  none  of  the  parties  may  be  placed  in  a  false 
position." 

The  speaker  ceased,  and  a  brief  pause  followed.  It  was  broken 
by  the  deep  voice  of  Fenwick's  adversary. 

"I  reply,  sir,  that  the  affair  cannot  be  arranged,"  he  said. 

"You  will  pardon  me  for  asking  why?" 

'•For  reasons  which  cannot  be  now  explained." 

The  second  looked  doubtful. 

"I  am  not  convinced,  sir — "  he  began,  when  the  man  of  the 
bronzed  face,  with  a  fierce  glow  in  his  eyes,  interrupted  him. 

"  Well,  sir,"  he  said,  in  a  voice  so  cold  and  menacing  that 
it  sent  a  thrill  through  me,  "  I  will  endeavor  to  convince  yon 
that  valid  grounds  exist  for  the  encounter  about  to  take  place 
— as  take  place  it  will,  with  or  without  witnesses.  Suppose, 
sir,  that  one  human  being  has  sworn  against  another  that  oath 


THE  VENDETTA.  23 

of  vengeance  which,  in  Corsica,  is  called  the  vendetta!  No 
matter  what  may  be  the  reason — it  may  he  a  family  feud, 
descending  from  generation  to  generation,  or  it  may  be  for  an 
ofl'ence,  personal  to  the  individual — the  origin  of  it  is  nothing  to 
the  point !  Well,  suppose,  sir,  that  you  are  the  person  who  has 
registered  that  oath  !  Say  it  is  your  soul  that  cries  out  for  the 
blood  of  this  adversary,  and  that,  after  long  years  spent  in 
searching  for  and  awaiting  him,  you  find  him !  Say  that  you 
discover  him  at  the  moment  when  he  is  skulking  in  the  dark ! — 
when  he  is  plotting  against  your  country  as  the  secret  agent  of 
her  enemies!" — 

"Impossible,  sir!"  exclaimed  the  second^  almost  recoiling  as 
he  spoke. 

"A  moment,  sir — I  have  not  yet  finished,"  said  the  deep 
voice.  "  Suppose  that  you  pursue  this  man  and  he  flies,  tearing 
up  the  paper  which  is  the  proof  of  his  guilt!  Suppose  that, 
mastered  by  a  weak  and  silly  deference  to  the  so-called  code  of 
honor,  you  offer  this  man  a  fair  combat  instead  of  putting  him 
to  death ! — suppose,  lastly,  sir,  that  the  adversaries  are  placed 
face  to  face — the  pistols  loaded,  the  hopes  of  long  years  of  wait- 
ing about  to  be  realized — suppose  that,  sir! — place  yourself  in 
that  situation — and  then  tell  me  if  you  imagine  that  the  man 
who  has  lived  for  this  alone — that  I — I,  sir  ! — will  forego  my 
private  vengeance!" 

There  was  something  so  cold  and  threatening  in  the  deep  tones 
of  the  speaker — his  eyes  burned  with  a  fire  so  dark  and  lurid — 
that  the  person  whom  he  had  addressed  seemed  overcome  and 
unable  to  find  a  word  of  reply. 

At  last  he  raised  his  head,  and  I  could  see  upon  his  counte- 
nance an  expression  of  utter  bewilderment. 

"A  stronger  affair  I  never  took  part  in  !"  he  muttered;  "  and 
if  my  principal  is  the  man  he  is  represented  to  be — " 

The  quick  ear  of  the  swarthy  personage  caught  the  muttered 
words. 

"Oh!  understand  me,  sir!"  he  said;  "  I  do  not  charge  your 
principal  with  any  thing  infamous.  I  am  a  gentleman  by  birth, 
and  am  ready  to  meet  him.     You  may,  therefore,  act  for  him." 


24  SURKY  OF  EAGLE'S-NEST. 

"One  moment,  sir,"  was  the  reply  "  I  wish  to  see  Mr.  Fen- 
wick." 

And,  making  a  sign  to  his  principal,  he  walked  some  paces 
apart.  Fenwick  had  listened  to  the  words  of  his  adversary  with 
sullen  and  lowering  brow — with  eyes  cast  down,  but  lips  closely 
set.  Unable  or  unwilling  to  reply,  he  had  evidently  resolved  to 
let  the  affair  take  its  own  course.  He  was  absent  for  about  ten 
minutes,  conversing  with  his  second,  when  they  returned,  and 
the  latter  said : 

"  I  shall  continue  to  act  for  Mr.  Fenwick  and  now  withdraw 
all  my  objections." 

His  associate  bowed,  and  in  a  moment  everything  was  ready. 

The  word  was  given  :  two  pistol  shots  followed,  like  a  single 
report;  and  the  man  of  the  bronze  face  remained  unmoved. 
Then  I  looked  at  Fenwick.  For  a  moment  he  stood  erect,  then, 
uttering  an  imprecation,  he  fell  forward  on  his  face. 

The  seconds  hastened  to  him,  and  one  of  them  muttered : 

"Shot  through  the  lungs — he  will  be  dead  in  five  minutes!" 

A  hasty  consultation  was  then  evidently  being  held,  and,  from 
the  words  "gate-keeper's  house,"  I  had  no  doubt  of  their  inten- 
tion to  leave  the  dying  man  there. 

My  glance  then  fell  on  the  man  whose  bullet  had  produced  this 
tragedy.  He  was  standing  motionless,  with  folded  arms — the 
smoking  pistol  in  his  hand — and  in  his  dark,  cold  features  I 
thought  I  read  that  his  vengeance  was  not  even  yet  satisfied. 

I  was  gazing  at  him  still,  when  a  signal  was  made  to  one  of  the 
hack-drivers,  and  the  vehicle  ascended  the  hill.  The  dying  man 
was  placed  in  it ;  his  second  followed — and  then  the  other  prin- 
cipal and  second  slowly  descended  the  hill  on  foot,  and  entered 
their  carriage,  which  rapidly  disappeared. 

The  whole  scene  had  vanished ;  and  I  gloomily  took  my  way 
back  to  the  city. 

On  the  next  morning  I  read  among  the  "local  items"  in  one 
of  the  journals  the  following  paragraph : — 

"  Mysterious  Affaik. — Yesterday  morning  a  fatal  rencontre 
took  place  at  Hollywood  Cemetery,  the  particulars  of  which  are 
yet  shrouded  in  mystery.     About  sunrise,  the  gate-keeper,  who 


THE   VENDETTA.  25 

occupies  a  small  house  at  the  entrance  of  the  cemetery,  heard  the 
discharge  of  pistols,  and,  hastening  in  the  direction  of  the  sound, 
met  two  hacks  returning,  one  of  which  contained  a  gentleman 
mortally  wounded.  He  was  conveyed  to  the  gate-keeper's,  and 
suhsequently  to  his  hotel,  where  he  now  lies  at  the  point  of 
death.  The  name  of  the  gentleman  is  Fenwick — that  of  his 
opponent  we  have  not  been  able  to  discover." 

On  the  next  day  an  additional  paragraph  appeared,  headed, 
"  The  Affair  at  Hollywood." 

"  This  mysterious  affair,"  wrote  the  sensation  journalist,  "  con- 
tinues painfully  to  excite  the  curiosity  of  the  public.  But  as  yet 
no  new  developments  have  been  made.  The  seconds  and  princi- 
pals— all  but  Mr.  Fenwick — have  disappeared,  and  the  causes 
which  led  to  the  meeting  are  entirely  unknown.  Mr.  Fenwick 
was  yesterday  somewhat  easier,  and  may  possibly  recover,  his 
physicians  say.  If  the  bullet  of  his  adversary  had  passed  the 
one-thousandth  part  of  inch  nearer  to  the  femoral  artery,  the 
wound  would  have  instantly  proved  fatal.  We  expect  to  be  able, 
in  a  day  or  two,  to  throw  additional  light  upon  this  singular 
affair." 

Three  days  afterward  the  public  were  inundated  with  this 
additional  light. 

"We  are  now  able  to  explain  the  affair  at  Hollywood,"  wrote 
the  journalist.  "The  meeting  resulted  from  a  violent  scene 
which  took  place  between  Mr.  Fenwick  and  a  noted  abolitionist 
and  tool  of  the  Yankees,  who  has  lately  been  lurking  in  this  city. 
Mr.  Fenwick  arrested  him,  and  discovered  the  proofs  of  his  guilt, 
but,  misled  by  a  false  sense  of  honor,  accepted  his  challenge.  The 
unhappy  result  is  known;  but  we  are  still  unable  to  give  the 
name  of  the  other  party  in  the  duel.  Mr.  Fenwick,  we  are  happy 
to  say,  is  steadily  improving,  and  his  physicians  declare  that  he 
will  soon  be  able  to  leave  his  bed." 

Such  was  the  flood  of  dazzling  light  poured  on  this  "mysteri- 
ous affair." 

This  paragraph,  as  I  learned  long  afterward,  never  met  the 
eye  of  the  person  against  whom  it  was  directed,  or  his  second,  as 
they  had  left  the  city  on  the  morning  succeeding  the  encounter. 


26  SURRY  OF  EAGLE'S-NEST. 

I  dropped  the  paper,  and  asked  myself,  for  the  hundredth  time, 
the  meaning  of  the  whole  affair.  Who  was  that  man  with  the 
ihin,  cunning  lips,  and  the  eye  of  the  snake? — who  that  dark  per- 
sonage with  the  black  eyes  and  the  face  of  bronze,  who  had  sworn 
the  vendetta  against  his  adversary  ? 

The  curtain  fell  upon  the  mystery,  and  all  was  dark. 


VII. 

MT   COMMISSION. 

On  the  floor  of  the  Convention  the  advocates  and  opponents 
of  secession  meanwhile  thundered  on  from  day  to  day,  and  in 
the  committees  the  leaders  grappled  furiously,  as  though  in  a 
breast-to-breast  struggle  for  life  or  death. 

The  shifting  phases  of  that  great  contest  will  some  day  be  de- 
lineated by  the  historian.  They  will  not  be  followed  here. 
These  memoirs  hurry  on  to  other  scenes,  and  cannot  dwell  upon 
those  fierce  battles  of  the  tongue  preluding  the  conflict  of  bayo- 
nets. I  will  here  record,  however,  my  conviction  that  I,  for  one, 
did  injustice  to  many  who  opposed  the  adoption  of  the  Ordinance 
of  Secession.  I  then  thought  they  were  untrue  to  the  honor  of 
the  Commonwealth.  I  now  think  that  they  only  differed  with 
their  opponents  upon  the  expediency  of  secession  at  the  moment. 
They  thought  that  Virginia  would  be  able  to  mediate  between 
the  extremes  of  both  sections — that  she  could  "  command  the 
peace  " — and  that  her  voice  would  be  heard  across  the  storm. 
Vain  hope  !  All  at  once  these  mists  of  delusion  were  divided  by 
the  lightning  flash.  President  Lincoln  called  for  seventy-five 
thousand  men  to  coerce  the  Gulf  States,  and  Virginia  was  di- 
rected to  furnish  her  quota. 

From  that  moment  all  opposition  to  immediate  secession  ended. 
Its  advocates  triumphed — its  opponents  were  paralyzed,  or,  rather, 
acknowledged  that  no  other  course  was  left.  The  choice  was 
now  between  fighting  with  and  fighting  against  the  Southern 
States,  and  the  Convention  no  longer  hesitated. 


MY    COMMISSION.  27 

It  was  on  the  18th  day  of  April,  I  think,  that,  hastening  to- 
ward the  Capitol,  whither  I  had  heen  attracted  by  a  sudden 
rumor,  I  saw  the  Confederate  flag  rise  in  the  place  of  the  stars 
and  stripes. 

The  Convention  had  just  adjourned  for  the  day,  and  I  met  my 
father  in  the  throng.  His  countenance  glowed,  and  in  his  earn- 
est look  I  read  deep  feeling.  Many  of  the  members'  faces  ex- 
hibited traces  of  tears. 

At  my  ardent  expressions  of  joy,  my  father  smiled — rather 
sadly,  I  thought. 

"We  have  done  our  duty,  my  son,"  he  said;  "and  you  know 
I  have  advocated  this  step  from  the  beginning,  when  I  think  the 
war  might  have  been  prevented.  Now  it  is  a  fixed  fact.  What 
do  you  propose  to  do?" 

"  To  return  at  once  to  King  William,  and  set  about  raising  a 
company.  If  they  choose  me  to  command  them — good.  If  not, 
I  will  serve  in  the  ranks." 

My  father  walked  on  in  silence,  evidently  reflecting. 

"Wait  two  or  three  days,"  he  said;  "there  will  be  time 
enough." 

And  we  continued  our  way. 

Three  days  afterward  he  came  into  my  chamber,  and  said,  with 
a  smile ; 

"  Good  morning,  Captain." 

I  laughed,  pnd  replied  : 

"  You  give  me  my  title  in  advance." 

"  No  ;  I  have  addressed  you  properly." 

And  he  handed  me  a  large  envelope,  upon  one  corner  of  wMcb 
were  stamped  the  Virginia  arms.  I  tore  it  open,  and  found  that 
it  contained  my  appointment  as  captain  in  the  Provisional  Army 
of  Virginia,  with  orders  to  report  to  Colonel  Jackson,  command- 
ing at  Ilarper's  Ferry ! 

Never  did  lover  greet  more  rapturously  the  handwriting 
of  his  mistress.  I  rose  to  my  full  height,  waved  the  paper 
round  my  head,  and  uttered  a  "hurrah!"  which  shook  the 
windows. 

Turning  with   Hushed  face    and  sparkling    eye»  toward    my 


28  SURRY    OF    EAGLE'S-NEST. 

father,  I  saw  him  looking  at  me  with  inexpressible  tenderness  and 
sweetness. 

I  addressed  myself  to  the  task  of  procuring  my  equipments 
with  an  ardor  which  I  now  look  back  to  with  a  satirical  smile. 
Ah,  those  good  days  of  the  good  year  1861 !  How  anxious  we 
all  were  to  get  to  horse  and  march  away  under  the  bonnie  blue 
flag!  How  fearful  we  were  that  a  battle  would  be  fought  be- 
fore we  arrived ;  that  we  would  not  have  an  opportunity  of 
reaping  the  glory  of  having  our  heads  carried  off  by  a  cannon 
ball !  That  romance  soon  passed,  and  the  war  became  a  "  heavy 
affair  " — but  then  it  was  all  illusion  and  romance. 

At  the  end  of  a  week  I  had  procured  my  uniform  and  equip- 
ments. The  first  consisted  of  a  suit  of  gray,  the  sleeves  of  the 
coat  profusely  decorated  by  my  fanciful  tailor  with  the  gold 
braid  of  a  captain :  the  latter  of  a  light  sabre,  pistol,  saddle,  and 
single  blanket,  strapped  behind.  My  slender  wardrobe  was 
carried  in  the  valise  upon  the  horse  of  my  servant,  an  active 
young  negro,  who  had  figured  as  my  body  servant,  and  was  de- 
lighted at  "  going  to  the  wars." 

I  bade  my  friends  good-by,  and  then  went  to  have  a  last  in- 
terview with  my  father.  I  still  see  his  noble  face,  and  hear  his 
grave,  sweet  accents.  There  were  tears  in  his  eyes  as  he  pressed 
my  hand,  and  I  think  my  own  were  not  dry. 

I  got  into  the  saddle,  waved  my  hand,  and,  followed  by  my 
servant,  set  out  upon  the  untried  future. 


VIII. 

THE    LONELY    HOUSE. 

It  was  the  end  of  April  when  I  commenced  my  journey  toward 
the  Potomac.  The  weather  was  charming,  the  birds  sang  in  the 
trees,  and  the  face  of  nature  lay  before  me,  all  smiles  and  sun- 
shine, her  form  clothed  in  that  tender  green  with  which  she 
salutes  the  spring. 


THE    LONELY    HOUSE.  29 

Such  was  the  fine  and  pleasant  season  when  the  writer  of  the 
present  memoir,  clad  in  Southern  gray,  with  his  horseman's 
hoots,  and  gayly-clattering  sahre,  set  out  for  the  wars,  his  mind 
full  of  rosy  dreams,  his  pulse  thrilling  with  anticipations  of 
adventure. 

To-day  he  seems  quite  a  stranger  to  the  old  hattered  soldier, 
whose  pulse  rarely  thrills,  and  who  is  tired  of  romance  and  ad- 
venture— or  almost. 

I  made  ahout  thirty  miles  the  first  day,  and  stopped  that  night 
in  the  neighborhood  of  Beaver  Dam,  at  the  house  of  the  hospit- 
able Colonel  F ,  who  gave  me  a  cordial  reception.      On  the 

next  morning  I  again  set  out,  turning  my  horse's  head  toward 
Raccoon  Ford,  on  the  Rapidan. 

The  country  through  which  I  now  passed  was  thinly  inhabited, 
and  toward  the  afternoon  I  began  to  feel  convinced  that  I  had 
missed  my  road.  This,  I  soon  ascertained  from  a  wayfarer,  was 
the  fact ;  I  had  inclined  too  far  toward  the  right,  and  my  shortest 
route  now  to  Culpepper  Court-House  was  by  way  of  Germanna 
Ford.  Long  before  reaching  that  point  it  began  to  grow  dark, 
and  I  found  myself  in  the  region  near  Cliancellorsville  known  as 
the  "  Wilderness." 
•  All  around  me  extended  a  dense  and  unbroken  expanse  of 
thicket,  which  the  eye  vainly  tried  to  pierce.  The  narrow  and 
winding  road  through  the  gloomy  undergrowth  resembled  rather 
a  dusky  serpent  than  a  highway,  and,  as  I  penetrated  deeper  and 
deeper  into  this  mysterious  wilderness,  the  lugubrious  sights  and 
sounds  which  greeted  me  were  ill  calculated  to  raise  my  spirits. 
The  silence  was  unbroken,  save  by  the  melancholy  cry  of  the 
whippoorwill,  buried  in  the  swampy  thicket;  and  no  living 
object  was  seen,  except  when  some  huge  owl,  startled  by  the 
tramp  of  the  horses,  flapped  his  heavy  pinions  across  the  road,  as 
lie  sought  refuge  in  the  shadowy  depths  of  the  wood.  The  moon 
had  risen,  and  was  struggling  amid  a  bank  of  clouds ;  but  the 
solemn  light  served  only  to  bring  out  in  clearer  relief  the  sombre 
details  of  the  wild  and  deserted  landscape.  The  long  branches 
depending  above  the  narrow  road  resembled  the  shaggy  arms  of 
goblins,  reaching  down  to  grasp  and  carry  the  traveller  away ; 


30  SURRY    OF    EAGLE'S-NEST. 

and  I  know  not  what  melancholy  influence,  born  of  the  place  and 
time,  weighed  down  my  spirits,  filling  me  with  almost  supersti- 
tious depression.  Here  night  and  a  solemn  gloom  seemed  to 
reign  undisputed,  and  the  notes  of  the  whippoorwill  resembled, 
to  my  fancy,  the  cries  of  unhappy  beings  imprisoned  in  these 
mournful  solitudes. 

That  strange  Wilderness,  now  associated  with  so  many  scenes 
of  blood  and  death,  had  enticed  me  into  its  depths.  I  was  the 
captive  of  its  funereal  shadows,  its  ominous  sights  and  sounds, 
and,  as  will  soon  be  seen,  I  was  to  explore  some  of  its  mysteries. 

The  depressing  influence  of  the  scene  evidently  affected  my 
servant  also.  He  drew  nearer  to  me,  and  suggested  that  the 
horses  were  too  much  fatigued  to  go  further. 

To  this  view  I  assented,  and,  telling  him  we  would  stop  at  the 
first  house,  continued  my  way,  still  pursuing  the  narrow  road 
through  the  unending  thickets.  I  went  on  thus  for  another  hour, 
and,  despairing  of  reaching  any  house,  was  about  to  bivouac  in 
the  woods,  when  all  at  once  a  light  was  seen  glimmering  through 
the  boughs  on  my  right.  Never  was  any  sight  more  welcome, 
and  pushing  on,  I  came  to  a  brush  fence  at  the  foot  of  a  hill, 
skirted  with  pines,  upon  which  the  moonlight  enabled  me  to  dis- 
cern a  small  house.  . 

Leaping  the  low  fence,  I  ascended  the  hill,  found  myself  before 
a  sort  of  cottage,  with  flowers  growing  round  the  porch,  and  a 
light  in  the  window  ;  and,  dismounting,  knocked  at  the  door. 

What  was  my  astonishment,  to  hear,  in  a  sweet  and  eager  voice, 
in  response  to  my  knock,  the  words : 

"Come!  come!  you  are  expected.1' 

Overwhelmed  with  surprise,  I  opened  the  door  and  entered. 


IX. 

THE    WOMAN    IN    WHITE. 

The  apartment  in  which  I  found  myself  was  small,  with  a  rag 
carpet  on  the  floor,  split-bottomed  chairs,  a  walnut  table,  and  a 
broad  fireplace,  above  which  ticked  an  eight-day  clock. 


THE    WOMAN    IN    WHITE. 


31 


This  I  took  in  at  a  glance,  but  my  eyes  were  speedily  riveted 
npon  the  person  who  had  uttered  those  singular  words,  "Come! 
come!  you  are  expected." 

It  was  a  lady  of  about  thirty-five  apparently,  who  still  ex- 
hibited traces  of  extraordinary  beauty,  though  she  was  thin  to 
emaciation.  Her  hair  had  once  been  auburn — it  was  now 
sprinkled  with  gray ;  and  the  magnificent  eyes  were  deeply 
sunken  in  their  sockets.  They  still  possessed,  however,  a  won- 
derful brilliancy,  and  it  was  impossible  not  to  be  struck  with 
their  mingled  gloom  and  tenderness.  The  dress  of  this  singular 
personage  still  further  excited  my  astonishment.  It  was  of  white 
muslin,  low-necked,  and  with  short  sleeves.  The  shoulders 
and  arms  thus  revealed  were  thin  to  a  painful  degree,  and  their 
pallor  was  frightful.  To  complete  the  singularity  of  her  cos- 
tume, there  fell  from  her  carefully  braided  hair  a  long  bridal 
veil  of  snowy  lace,  and  around  her  neck  she  wore  a  superb 
necklace. 

As  I  entered,  the  lady  rose  with  sudden  animation  and  a  beam- 
ing expression  upon  her  countenance,  but  immediately  sank  back, 
murmuring : 

"It  is  not  my  dai'ling!  He  will  not  come — he  will  never 
come!" 

This  strange  scene  had  so  completely  taken  me  aback  that  I 
remained  standing  in  the  middle  of  the  apartment  without  utter- 
ing a  word.  There  I  might  have  continued  to  stand,  deprived 
of  all  power  of  utterance ;  but  all  at  once  a  door  opened,  and  a 
woman  of  about  fifty,  hard-featured  and  morose  in  manner,  and 
plainly  dressed,  hastily  entered. 

"What  will  you  have,  sir?"  she  said  in  tones  as  cold  as  an 
icicle.  I  explained  that  my  horses  were  worn  out,  and  that  I 
wished  to  secure  a  night's  lodging — a  statement  which  was 
greeted  with  the  freezing  reply : 

"  This  is  not  a  house  of  entertainment,  sir,  and  we  cannot 
lodge  you." 

I  would  have  retired  upon  receiving  this  ungracious  answer, 
but  the  pale  lady  came  to  my  succor. 

"  No,  no,"  she  said  in  her  sweet  and  mournful  voice,  "  he  must 


32  SURRY    OF   EAGLE'S-NEST. 

not  go  away.     I  thought  it  was  my  darling — and  he  is  tired.      1 
also  am  tired,  oh  very,  very  tired." 

And  she  sighed  drearily,  relapsing  into  silence.  Her  hands 
were  clasped  upon  her  lap,  but  from  time  to  time  she  played  with 
a  little  golden  cross  suspended  from  her  necklace.  Suddenly  the 
clock  struck,  and  the  sound  produced  a  singular  effect  upon  her. 
She  rose  to  her  feet,  turned  toward  the  door,  and,  throwing  back 
her  long  lace  veil  with  a  movement  of  inexpressible  grace,  ex- 
claimed with  sparkling  eyes : 

"  That  is  the  hour ;  and  he  will  soon  be  here.  He  is  coming 
now !" 

In  fact,  the  hoofs  of  a  horse  were  heard  upon  the  ground  with- 
out, and  with  flushed  cheeks  the  lady  hastened  to  the  door,  to 
which  my  servant  had  just  ridden  up.  The  mysterious  lady  evi- 
dently mistook  the  noise  for  that  made  by  the  person  whom  she 
expected,  and,  throwing  open  the  door,  stood  with  clasped  hands 
in  an  attitude  of  passionate  expectation. 

The  scene,  however,  came  to  a  sudden  end.  The  harsh-looking 
woman  hastened  to  the  lady's  side,  and,  with  a  singular  mixture 
of  deference  and  roughness,  exclaimed : 

"  What  are  you  doing,  madam  ?  Do  you  suppose  he  will  be 
glad  to  see  you,  if  you  make  yourself  sick  by  going  into  the  night 
air?  Besides,  your  hair  is  all  coming  down,  and  it  makes  you 
ugly.     Come,  and  let  me  fix  it  up  again." 

"Oh,  yes!"  was  the  mournful  reply,  "he  always  loved  to  have 
my  hair  neatly  arranged.  He  will  not  like  to  see  me  thus !  But 
will  he  come?  I  fear  he  will  never  come!  No,  no! — he  will 
never,  never  come !" 

And,  hiding  her  face  with  her  hands,  she  wept  bitterly,  and 
permitted  herself  to  be  led  away.  She  passed  through  an  inner 
door,  and  I  was  left  alone. 

To  describe  my  astonishment  at  this  extraordinary  scene 
would  be  impossible.  I  stood  motionless  in  the  midst  of  the 
apartment,  gazing  at  the  door  through  which  the  lady  had  dis- 
appeared, and  it  was  not  until  I  heard  a  voice  at  my  very  elbow 
ihat  I  realized  my  whereabouts. 

It  was  the  voice  of  the  harsh-looking  woman,  who  now  re- 


MYSTERIES   OF   THE   WILDERNESS.       33 

turned  to  inform  me,  with  greater  emphasis  than  before,  that  1 
must  go  further  on  to  secure  a  night's  lodging.  Her  mistress,  1 
must  see,  was  insane,  she  said;  and  any  company  made  her 
worse. 

She  had  scarcely  finished,  when  a  musical  voice  behind  me 
said: 

"  It  is  not  necessary  for  this  gentleman  to  go,  Mrs.  Parkins. 
We  will  soon  have  you  some  supper,  sir.  Pray  sit  down.  You 
are  very  welcome." 


X. 

THE  MYSTERIES  OP  THE  WILDERNESS. 

I  passed  from  one  enchantment  to  another.  I  had  seen  a  mys- 
terious bride.  I  now  found  myself  vis-a-vis  to  a  young  beauty 
of  seventeen,  whose  appearance  was  sufficiently  attractive  to 
monopolize  my  whole  attention. 

Let  the  reader  figure  to  himself  an  oval  face  exceedingly  sweet 
and  winning;  large  blue  eyes  full  of  unclouded  serenity;  and  a 
delicate  mouth,  which  expressed  at  once  extreme  modesty  and 
very  great  earnestness.  Around  this  countenance,  at  once  femi- 
nine and  full  of  character,  fell  a  profusion  of  auburn  ringlets — 
not  curls — reaching  scarcely  to  the  neck.  The  figure,  clad  in  a 
light  spring  dress,  was  slender  and  graceful — the  hand  small  and 
white  as  snow.  In  the  depths  of  the  tranquil  blue  eyes,  I  thought 
I  could  discern  unknown  treasures  of  goodness,  and  great  Avas 
my  surprise  at  finding  this  aristocratic  girl  buried  in  an  obscure 
abode  of  the  wilderness. 

She  welcomed  me  with  an  air  of  simplicity  and  ease  which  no 
princess  could  have  surpassed ;  and  under  the  influence  of  this 
manner,  so  firm  yet  unassuming,  even  the  morose  woman,  who 
now  reappeared  upon  the  scene,  seemed  to  grow  less  harsh. 
She  placed  some  supper  on  the  table — muttered  a  promise  to  see 
to  my  servant  and  horses — and  then  withdrew. 

The  young  lady,  who  had  calmly  introduced  herself  as  "  Miss 

2  * 


34  SURRY    OF   EAGLE'S-NEST. 

Grafton,"  took  her  seat  at  the  tea-tray,  and  conversed  during 
the  meal  with  the  same  unaffected  tranquillity.  She  spoke  of 
the  lady  in  white  without  being  urged;  but  simply  said  that  her 
mind  was  disordered — especially  upon  "a  certain  anniversary  in 
April,"  which  had  chanced  to  be  the  night  of  my  arrival.  Then 
she  glided  to  other  topics,  and  finally  suggested  that  I  must  be 
weary.     My  bed  was  ready — would  I  retire  ? 

So  I  retired  to  a  small,  neat  chamber  above — to  lie  awake  for 
(lours  thinking  of  her. 

At  last  I  fell  asleep,  but  I  had  a  singular  dream.  I  thought  I 
heard  in  my  chamber  low,  cautious  footsteps,  as  though  a  woman 
were  walking  with  bare  feet  upon  the  floor.  Tip ! — tip ! — tip  ! — 
I  could  have  sworn  the  sound  was  real.  As  I  listened,  too,  with 
a  quick  beating  of  the  heart,  I  thought  I  saw  a  dusky  figure  flit 
before  me — something  rustled — then  the  whole  disappeared,  and 
silence  reigned  in  the  chamber. 

Was  it  all  a  dream  ?  I  asked  myself  as  I  opened  my  eyes  at 
dawn.  For  the  life  of  me  I  could  not  decide,  and  I  finally  dis- 
missed the  subject  from  my  mind. 

At  that  moment  I  heard  the  hoof-strokes  of  a  horse  beneath 
my  window,  and  a  long  acquaintance  with  the  indolent  character 
of  my  servant  convinced  me  that  the  horse  was  not  my  own. 

Going  quietly  to  the  window,  I  raised  a  corner  of  the  white 
curtain,  and,  looking  out,  saw  a  horse  standing,  ready  saddled  for 
a  journey,  before  the  door. 

On  the  steps  the  woman  Parkins  was  conversing  with  a  man 
wrapped  closely  in  a  dark  cloak,  and  wearing  a  drooping  hat. 
[n  spite  of  this  disguise,  however,  I  recognized  one  of  the  parti- 
cipants in  the  duel  at  Hollywood — the  person  called  Fenwick. 

He  was  thinner  and  paler,  no  doubt  from  his  recent  wound ; 
but  I  saw  before  me  the  same  dark  and  sinister  face ;  the  same 
bold  yet  lurking  glance ;  the  same  lips,  thin,  compressed,  and 
full  of  cunning. 

I  heard  only  the  last  words  which  passed  between  these 
worthies. 

"  This  officer  must  not  see  me,"  muttered  Fenwick,  "  and  I  am 
going.     Ourse  that  girl!  how  I  love  her  and  hate  herl" 


MYSTERIES  OF  THE  WILDERNESS.       35 

The  woman  uttered  a  harsh  and  grating  laugh,  which  sounded 
strangely  from  those  morose  lips. 

"That's  her  feeling  for  you,  except  the  love,"  she  said-  "she 
don't  seem  to  like  you,  sir." 

"And  why!"  exclaimed  Fenwick  in  a  sort  of  rage,  "because 
I  have  told  her  I  love  her! — because  I  cannot  live  away  from 
her! — because  I  would  give  up  all  for  her! — therefore  she  hates 
me!" 

And  I  could  hear  the  speaker  grind  his  teeth. 

"  "Well,  it  is  not  my  fault,  is  it?"  came  in  harsh  tones  from  the 
woman.     "  I  do  what  I  am  paid  for " 

"And  you  would  sell  your  soul  for  gold!"  interrupted  Fen- 
wick, with  a  bitter  sneer 

"Suppose  I  would!"  was  the  reply;  "but  I  can't  make  the 
young  lady  care  for  you.  You  had  better  give  her  up,  and  pur- 
sue her  no  longer." 

"Give  up  the  pursuit! — do  you  think  I  will  do  that?  to  be 
foiled  and  beaten  by  a  simple  girl! — No!  I  swear  by  all  the 
devils  in  hell  she  shall  not  escape  me !" 

He  spoke  so  loudly  and  violently  that  the  woman  growled  in 
a  low  voice : 

"  You  will  be  overheard.  After  hiding  all  last  night,  you  will 
be  seen  by  the  officer — I  hear  him  stirring  in  his  room." 

Fenwick  hesitated  a  moment ;  ground  his  teeth ;  glanced  at 
iny  window ;  and  then,  shaking  his  clenched  hand,  leaped  upon 
his  horse. 

"What  is  delayed  is  not  lost!"  he  exclaimed  bitterly. 

And  putting  spur  to  the  animal,  he  disappeared  at  full  gallop 
in  the  thicket. 

Such  was  my  third  meeting  with  this  personage,  who  went 
and  came  on  secret  errands,  fought  duels  with  nameless  ad- 
versaries, and  had  loves  or  hatreds  to  gratify  wherever 
he  went.  While  musing  upon  the  singular  chance  which  had 
again  thrown  him  in  my  way,  I  was  summoned  to  breakfast, 
at  which  Miss  Grafton  presided.  The  lady  in  white  did  not 
reappear. 

"  My  cousin  is  sick,  and  I  hope  you  will  excuse  her,  sir,"  was 


36  SURRY    OF    E AGLE'S-NEST. 

the  calm  explanation  of  the  young  girl ;  and  with  this  I  was 
obliged  to  remain  content. 

"When  the  meal  was  ended  I  ordered  my  horses,  and  at  my 
request  Miss  Grafton  walked  out  with  me  upon  the  knoll  before 
the  house,  where  I  repeated  to  her  the  conversation  I  had  over- 
heard between  Fenwick  and  Mrs.  Parkins. 

It  seemed  to  excite  no  surprise  in  her  whatever,  and  I  observed 
no  exhibition  of  emotion  in  her  countenance. 

"I  owe  you  many  thanks  for  your  friendly  warning,  sir,"  she 
said  tranquilly ;  "  but  this  is  not  the  first  intimation  I  have  had  of 
these  designs." 

"  But  I  am  sincerely  uneasy,  Miss  Grafton,"  I  replied;  "this 
man  is  dangerous  and  perfectly  unscrupulous." 

"I  do  not  fear  him,  sir,"  she  said.     "  God  will  defend  me." 

Her  voice  was  so  brave  and  firm  that  I  could  not  restrain  a 
glance  of  admiration. 

"  You  have  witnessed  some  singular  things  in  this  house,  sir," 
the  young  lady  added,  "and  I  am  sorry  that  they  attracted  your 
attention.  In  regard  to  Mr.  Fenwick,  I  shall  say  nothing;  but  I 
trust  that  you  will  not  speak  of  the  condition  of  my  unfortunate 
relative,  whose  derangement  is  very  painful  to  me." 

"Most  assuredly  I  shall  not,  if  you  wish  it." 

"  She  is  quite  ill  this  morning,  in  consequence  of  the  excite- 
ment last  night,  and  I  should  feel  no  surprise  if  she  died  at  any 
moment.  Her  life  is  a  sad  one ;  and  it  will  gratify  those  who 
love  her — I  am  almost  the  only  one — if  her  condition  is  not  made 
the  subject  of  speculation  or  remark.  She  has  long  been  buried 
here,  and  if  she  is  to  die,  it  is  better  that  no  notice  should  be 
taken  of  the  event.     She  is  not  happy!" 

And  deep  silence  veiled  the  eyes  of  the  fair  girl  as  she  slowly 
returned  to  the  house. 

A  few  minutes  afterward  I  bade  her  farewell,  and  got  into 
the  saddle.  A  bow,  a  motion  of  the  hand,  which  she  responded 
to  by  an  inclination  of  her  head — and  we  parted. 


THE  PACKAGE.  37 

XI. 

THE  PACKAGE. 

Crossing  the  Rapidan  at  Germauna  Ford,  I  pushed  on  through 
Culpepper  Court-IIouse,  toward  the  mountains,  intending  to  pass 
the  Blue  Ridge  at  Ashby's  Gap. 

The  strange  scenes  which  had  greeted  my  eyes  and  ears  in  the 
Wilderness  still  absorbed  my  whole  attention ;  and  I  taxed  my 
memory  to  recall  every  circumstance,  however  minute,  con- 
nected with  my  sojourn  in  the  abode  of  the  White  Lady.  I  was 
thus  engaged,  and  rode  on  musing  deeply,  when,  chancing  to  put 
my  hand  in  my  coat  pocket,  it  struck  against  something. 

I  drew  this  something  out,  and  found  that  it  was  a  package  of 
papers  in  a  large  envelope,  securely  sealed  in  several  places,  with 
a  crest  stamped  on  the  sealing  wax — but  the  astonishing  circum- 
stance was  that  the  envelope  bore  no  direction  whatever. 

All  at  once  I  saw  something  in  one  corner,  in  the  delicate 
handwriting  of  a  woman,  and  deciphered  the  words: 

"  Read  these  when  I  am  dead — and  remember 

Your  own  Feances." 

That  was  all!  But  that  little  was  a  whole  world  of  wonder. 
Who  could  this  "  Frances  "  be,  and  whence  came  this  package? 
All  at  once  came  the  recollection  of  that  vision  of  the  preceding 
night.  I  remembered  the  faint  footfalls  on  the  floor  of  my 
chamber,  as  though  delicate  feet  without  slippers  were  tipping 
along,  and  something  told  me  that  the  White  Lady  had  entered  my 
chamber  and  placed  that  package  in  my  pocket.  The  more  I  re- 
flected, the  stronger  was  my  conviction  of  the  fact.  She  had, 
no  doubt,  experienced  a  confused  impression  of  my  identity  or 
acquaintance  with  the  person  whom  she  had  expected  on  that 
"  certain  anniversary  in  April  "  mentioned  by  Miss  Grafton — 
had  entered  my  apartment — deposited  the  package  in  my  coat 
pocket  for  delivery  to  the  unknown,  and,  before  I  could  detect 
her,  had  glided  away,  with  the  cunning  of  insanity,  and  dis- 
appeared. 


38  SUKRT    OF   EAGLE'S-NEST. 

Such  was  my  explanation  of  this  singular  circumstance ;  but 
another  question  now  presented  itself :  "What  was  I  to  do  with 
the  package  ?  I  could  not  lose  a  whole  day's  journey  and  return 
— that  was  impossible ;  and  yet  I  did  not  wish  to  retain  the 
papers  of  the  poor,  deranged  lady.  "What  should  I  do  ?  The 
best  decision  to  which  I  could  come  was,  to  take  care  of  them 
until  I  had  an  opportunity  of  returning  or  sending  them  back  by 
a  safe  hand ;  and,  having  thus  decided  upon  my  course,  I  re- 
placed the  package  in  my  pocket,  pondering  deeply  upon  that 
strange  indorsement: 

"Eead  this  when  I  am  dead — and  remember  your  own 
Frances." 

Then  her  name  was  Frances.     What  was  the  rest  ? 


XII. 


HOW   I   ENCOUNTERED   A   TRAVELLER,    AND   OF  WHAT 
WE    CONVERSED. 

I  followed  a  winding  road  through  the  woods,  and  was  now 
approaching  the  Eappahannock. 

I  had  found  the  country  on  fire  with  the  war  fever,  and  at 
every  cross-road  crowds  of  idlers  had  congregated,  who  discussed 
and  rediscussed  the  events  of  the  day.  These  would  gladly 
have  stopped  me  to  ascertain  every  circumstance  which  I  had 
ever  known,  heard,  or  imagined.  But  I  had  no  desire  to  delay 
my  journey  for  the  idle  amusement  of  gossips  and  busybodies. 
So  I  turned  a  deaf  ear  to  all  their  allurements,  and  steadily 
pressed  on  toward  the  Rappahannock. 

I  had  reached  a  point  within  a  few  miles  of  the  river,  when  I 
saw  in  front  of  me  a  traveller  on  a  superb  white  horse.  Of  the 
animal's  action  I  soon  had  a  convincing  proof. 

A  bridge  on  the  road,  over  a  stream  with  precipitous  banks, 
had  been  swept  away,  and  I  heard  the  roar  of  the  waters.  The 
traveller,  I  supposed,  would  seek  a  crossing  above  or  below,  but 
in  this  I  was  mistaken.     All  at  once  I  saw  him  put  his  horse  at 


A    TRAVELLER.  39 

the  opening — the  animal  rose  in  the  air — and,  with  a  gigantic 
leap,  cleared  the  chasm. 

As  I  approached,  the  traveller  halted,  and  I  saw  him  look  over 
his  shoulder.  I  glanced  at  him — then  at  the  stream.  It  was 
fully  fifteen  feet,  and  I  assure  you,  my  dear  reader,  I  had  not  the 
least  idea  of  attempting  it. 

Ignominiously  riding  along  the  beach,  1  discovered  a  crossing, 
and  in  a  few  moments  had  joined  and  saluted  the  man  on  the 
white  horse,  who  was  courteously  waiting  for  me. 

He  was  low  of  stature,  apparently  about  thirty,  and  his 
costume  was  the  careless  dress  of  a  gentleman.  The  face  was 
a  striking  one — very  dark,  heavily  bearded,  and  rather  brigand- 
ish. But  no  bandit  ever  could  boast  a  pair  of  eyes  like  the 
stranger's.  They  were  brown,  and  sparkled  with  unmistakable 
good  humor ;  the  whole  countenance,  indeed,  was  full  of  gayety 
and  courtesy.  Altogether,  there  was  something  in  the  cavalier 
on  the  white  horse  which  irresistibly  attracted  you. 

""What  a  splendid  animal,  sir!"  I  said,  when  we  had  ex- 
changed the  greeting  of  wayfarers;  " I  really  envied  you  when 
I  saw  you  take  that  leap !" 

"I  have  cleared  wider  places,"  was  his  smiling  reply,  as  we 
rode  on ;  "  and  I  don't  think  the  Yankees  could  catch  me  very 
easily." 

"  Do  you  belong  to  the  army  ?" 

"  To  a  cavalry  company  of  this  county,  sir.  I  fear  that  we 
shall  soon  be  cutting  right  and  left." 

"  You  fear  that  ?"  was  my  rather  discourteous  question  ;  but 
the  stranger  did  not  seem  to  observe  the  word. 

"Yes,"  he  said  in  his  mild  voice ,  "I  am  sorry  to  fight  the 
North.  War  is  terrible,  and,  do  you  know,  I  have  a  lingering 
affection  for  the  stars  and  stripes  still  ?" 

"  I  felt  as  you  do  once,  but  we  must  choose  a  new  flag.' 

"Yes." 

"  What  will  it  be?"  I  said,  "the  Southern  cross?  the  Palmet- 
to ?     We  have  a  number  of  emblems  to  choose  from." 

"Yes,  but  I  have  chosen  mine,"  said  the  stranger  simply. 

"  What  is  it  ?" 


40  SURRY    OF    EAGLE'S-NEST. 

He  took  off  his  hat  and  drew  from  it  a  small  square  of  silk, 
upon  which  was  painted  the  Virgin  of  Virginia  trampling  upon 
the  neck  of  the  tyrant,  with  the  motto  traced  beneath,  "  Sic  sem- 
per tyrannis." 

"  This  is  the  flag  I  intend  to  fight  under,"*  he  said  in  the  same 
mild  voice. 

"It  is  the  best  of  all!" 

"Yes,"  he  said;  "I  had  it  painted  the  day  before  I  left  Rich- 
mond, and,  sink  or  swim,  live  or  die,  I  intend  to  fight  under  it  to 
the  last!" 

There  was  something  so  noble  and  chivalric  in  the  dark  face 
of  the  stranger  as  he  spoke,  that  I  gazed  at  him  with  uncon- 
cealed admiration.  Again  I  observed,  too,  his  perfect  mastery 
of  his  powerful  white  horse,  his  sinewy  frame,  his  flashing  eye 
— and  I  thought,  "You  would  be  dangerous  in  a  charge!" 

But  the  traveller  did  not  seem  to  observe  the  effect  which  his 
words  had  produced.  The  glow  disappeared  from  his  counte- 
nance, and  he  rode  on — the  picture  of  a  kindly,  unassuming  gen- 
tleman. 

Of  that  kindness  of  temperament  I  soon  had  an  illustration. 
On  the  road  we  came  up  with  a  little  girl  in  a  tattered  frock, 
without  shoes  or  stockings,  who  limped  along  painfully  over  the 
rocky  way.  My  companion  observed  her  weariness,  and,  check- 
ing his  horse,  asked  where  she  was  going.  The  mild  voice 
seemed  to  disarm  any  fears  the  child  had,  and,  looking  out  with 
large  eyes  from  her  tangled  hair,  she  replied  that  she  had  been 
some  miles  to  carry  a  message,  and  was  returning  home. 

"How  far  is  TiomeV  asked  the  stranger,  smiling. 

"About  two  miles,  sir,"  replied  the  child. 

"Two  miles!"  exclaimed  the  stranger;  "you  can  never  walk 
that  far,  little  one,  with  your  sore  feet.  Come,  get  up,  I  will 
give  you  a  ride!" 

And  reaching  down,  he  lifted  the  child  and  placed  her  before 
him  on  the  saddle.  He  did  not  seem  to  notice  that  the  dirty 
and  tattered  dress  rubbed  against  his  spotless  shirt  bosom,  as, 

*  His  words. 


A    TRAVELLER.  41 

resting  in  his  arms,  the  child  looked  at  him  out  of  her  great 
eyes. 

The  stranger  quietly  rode  on,  still  conversing,  until  we  reached 
a  point  opposite  a  poor  house  seen  across  the  fields:  here  the 
child  slid  down,  and  disappeared. 

We  then  continued  our  ride,  conversing  as  hefore,  and  I  found 
my  companion  a  very  delightful  talker.  He  was  perfectly  mod- 
est and  unassuming,  hut  a  man  of  excellent  sense.  I  should 
have  classed  him  with  those  persons  who  are  described  by  the 
phrase  "  they  would  not  hurt  a  fly  " — but  at  times  his  brown  eyes 
flashed,  and  a  chivalric  glow  lit  up  his  dark  face,  as  we  spoke 
of  the  coming  contest. 

When  we  reached  a  cross-road,  not  far  from  the  river,  and, 
checking  his  white  horse,  the  stranger  informed  me  that  he  must 
leave  me,  to  pay  a  visit  to  a  friend,  I  really  regretted  the  part- 
ing. 

"I  hope,  however,  to  see  you  again,  captain,"  he  said,  address- 
ing me  by  the  title  which  my  uniform  indicated.  "My  house  is 
on  your  road,  and  I  shall  be  at  home  to-morrow.  I  live  at  Mark- 
ham's,  near  Manassas  Gap,  and  trust  you  will  make  use  of  my 
house  to-night.  My  name  is  Turner  Ashby,  and  my  brother 
Richard  is  at  home.  I  shall  expect  to  see  you  when  I  reach 
home  to-morrow  morning."  I  accepted  this  obliging  offer  with 
many  thanks,  as  my  day's  journey  would  terminate  in  the  vicin- 
ity of  Markham's ;  and,  with  a  friendly  pressure  of  the  hand,  my 
travelling  companion  disappeared  at  full  speed  on  his  white 
horse. 

I  fully  intended  to  make  my  way  to  his  house,  but,  as  the  reader 
will  soon  see,  was  prevented  from  doing  so  by  "  circumstances 
over  which  I  had  no  control." 


42  SURRY    OF    EAGLE'S-NEST. 

XIII. 

THE   OWNER   OF  THE   HANDKERCHIEF. 

Fobding  the  Rappahannock  near  the  little  hamlet  of  Orleans, 
I  stopped  to  dine  and  feed  my  horses  at  the  hospitable  mansion 

of  Mr.  M ;  and  then  continued  my  way,  drawing  nearer 

and  nearer  to  the  long  blue  wave  of  the  Ridge. 

I  lost  no  time,  as  heavy  banks  of  clouds  piled  up  on  the  hori- 
zon indicated  an  approaching  storm ;  and  the  thunder  already 
began  to  mutter  in  the  distance.  The  declining  sun,  threatening 
and  bloody,  poured  its  crimson  light  upon  field  and  forest  as  I 
hastened  on ;  and  from  time  to  time  vivid  flashes  of  lightning 
lit  up  the  dark  masses  slowly  gathering  overhead.  Then  all  at 
once,  without  warning,  and  ere  I  dreamed  of  its  approach,  rushed 
down  from  the  mountains  a  veritable  hurricane. 

Never  before  had  I  encountered  anything  like  this  sudden  tor- 
nado. It  blinded  me,  and  took  my  breath  away.  Roaring  as  it 
came,  like  a  thousand  wild  beasts  unloosed,  it  tore  across  the 
fields,  whirled  amid  the  boughs  of  the  forest,  and  carried  every- 
thing before  it. 

I  had  entered  a  belt  of  woods,  through  which  the  road  ran, 
ere  I  realized  the  extent  of  the  hurricane ;  and  now  went  on  at 
full  speed,  to  escape  the  dangerous  vicinity  of  crashing  boughs 
and  tree  trunks.  The  air  was  filled  with  limbs  torn  from  the 
trees,  and  more  than  once,  as  .1  passed  beneath,  I  narrowly 
escaped  being  struck  by  them. 

All  at  once,  as  I  went  on  at  full  gallop,  I  saw  a  horse  shoot 
out  from  a  side  road,  a  hundred  yards  in  front  of  me,  and  a 
second  glance  told  me  that  the  rider  was  a  young  lady.  Her 
hair  was  flowing  in  heavy  curls  upon  her  shoulders,  from  beneath 
the  coquettish  little  hat  and  feather ;  her  habit  streamed  like  a 
meteor ;  and,  with  head  thrown  back,  and  slender  form  erect  in 
the  saddle,  she  seemed  to  be  enjoying  the  hurly-burly  of  the 
storm. 

Behind  her  came  a  servant,  urging  his  horse  violently  with 


OWNER    OF  THE    HANDKERCHIEF.       4:3 

hand  and  heel — as  perfect  a  specimen  of  terror  as  his  young 
mistress  was  of  "game." 

I  was  charmed  with  the  enticing  figure  which  sped  on  before 
me,  and  pushed  my  horse  to  his  utmost  speed,  not  only  to  escape 
the  storm,  but  also  to  keep  up  with  the  young  lady.  As  I  did 
so,  the  hurricane  increased  in  intensity.  The  air  was  full  of  fly- 
ing boughs  :  twice  I  was  obliged  to  leap  trees  which  had  crashpd 
down  between  myself  and  the  young  lady:  finally  my  enjoyment 
of  her  splendid  horsemanship  came  suddenly  to  an  end.  The 
storm  came  on  with  a  roar  which  surpassed  all  its  former  fury ; 
a  huge  limb  above  me  snapped — the  next  moment  I  was  struck 
violently  upon  the  head,  and  hurled  from  my  horse  to  the 
ground. 

I  must  have  been  completely  stunned  for  some  moments. 
When  I  opened  my  eyes  and  came  to  my  senses,  I  saw  the 
young  lady  kneeling  beside  me,  and  felt  her  arm  under  my  head. 
At  ten  paces  the  frightened  servant  held  her  horse.  The  storm 
raged  as  furiously  as  before,  but  the  young  lady  seemed  perfectly 
indifferent  to  it. 

Suddenly  I  recognized  in  the  face  close  to  my  own  something 
familiar ;  then  a  thrill  ran  through  my  frame.  It  was  the 
owner  of  the  handkerchief  which  I  had  picked  up,  on  that 
moonlight  night,  in  the  grounds  of  the  Capitol  at  Richmond ! 

There  was  no  sort  of  doubt  about  the  identity  of  the  young 
lady.  There  were  the  same  beautiful  lips,  as  red  as  carnations ; 
the  same  waving  chestnut  hair ;  the  same  eyes,  half  haughty  and 
half  languishing — great  violet  eyes,  which  had  haunted  me  ever 
since  that  evening ! 

I  must  have  looked  at  her  fixedly,  for  a  slight  rose-color  came 
to  the  cheeks.  Then  it  faded,  and  she  said,  with  the  most  per- 
fect calmness : 

"Are  you  much  hurt,  sir?     Your  arm  seems  to  be  broken." 

"I  do  not  know,"  I  murmured.  "I  am  ashamed  to  trouble 
you!" 

"You  do  not  trouble  me  at  all,  sir,"  was  the  reply  of  the 
young  lady.     "  I  will  assist  you  to  rise." 

Was  anything  ever  less  romantic  ?     Instead  of  rescuing  the 


44  SURRY    OF    EAG-LE'S-NEST. 

young  girl,  of  whom  I  had  dreamed  so  long,  here  she  was  coming 
to  my  own  succor  and  rescuing  me  ! 

Rising  faintly  to  my  feet,  with  a  sort  of  vertigo  in  my  brain,  I 
managed  to  mount  my  horse,  which  was  led  up  at  the  moment, 
and  the  young  lady,  too,  got  into  the  saddle. 

"You  must  not  ride  rapidly:  I  fear  you  are  seriously  hurt," 
she  said.  "  I  am  in  no  haste,  and  will  accompany  you  until  you 
feel  stronger,  sir." 

And  she  calmly  rode  on  by  my  side. 

She  was  in  no  haste  ! — and  yet  the  forest  was  a  whirlpool  of 
falling  limbs  and  crashing  trees,  as  the  storm  roared  on  with 
unabated  fury !  My  fair  companion  exhibited  not  a  single 
evidence  of  fear — her  face  was  as  calm  and  cold  as  before.  You 
would  have  said  that  she  was  riding  pensively  along  on  a  tranquil 
May  morning. 

We  soon  issued  from  the  forest. 

"  "Will  yon  come  to  my  father's  house,  sir,  until  the  storm  is 
over?"  my  companion  now  said.  "  I  think  you  need  some  rest 
before  riding  further." 

"Thanks!"  I  murmured,  in  a  sort  of  dream,  as  I  listened  to 
that  voice. 

And  she  led  the  way  into  a  by-road  which  ran  in  the  direction 
of  a  house  which  I  saw  rising  from  the  woods  upon  a  distant 
hill. 

Still  stunned,  bewildered,  and  scarcely  realizing  my  situation, 
I  rode  on  by  the  side  of  the  young  lady,  who  seemed  not  to  ob- 
serve the  rain  which  now  drenched  her  chestnut  curls  and  her 
riding  habit.  She  did  not  again  open  her  lips;  and  I  was  too 
faint  and  weak  to  address  her. 

In  a  quarter  of  an  hour  we  reached  a  large  white  gate, 
ascended  a  grassy  hill,  and  stopped  before  the  portico  of  an 
old  mansion  of  very  considerable  size,  overshadowed  by  mag- 
nificent oaks.  I  remember  some  dogs  were  lying  upon  the 
portico,  and  a  peacock  was  cowering  with  wet  plumage  beneath 
one  of  the  trees.  Memory  is  a  curious  faculty  and  deals  in 
trifles. 

I  had  dismounted,  with  the  vague  feeling  that  I  ought  to  assist 


A    FOLLOWER  OF    CALHOUN.  45 

the  young  lady  from  the  saddle,  when  a  gentleman,  with  long 
gray  hair  falling  upon  his  shoulders,  came  out  and  approached  us. 

After  that,  I  don't  remember  much  more.  My  arm  seemed  on 
fire  ;  a  mist  passed  before  my  eyes,  and,  only  dimly  realizing 
that  the  arm  of  the  gray-haired  gentleman  was  around  me, 
I  lost  consciousness. 

Again,  ray  dear  reader,  can  you  possibly  imagine  any  incident 
less  "heroic"  than  this  first  meeting  with  the  lady  of  the 
handkerchief? 


XIV. 

A  FOLLOWER  OF  CALHOUN. 

1  have  no  intention  now  of  drawing  a  vivid  and  affecting  pic- 
ture of  an  amiable  family  turned  topsy-turvy  and  running  to  and 
fro. 

Here  is  what  I  saw  when  I  opened  my  eyes :  an  old  lady  in 
a  white  cap,  busily  bandaging  my  broken  arm;  an  old  gentleman 
with  long  gray  hair,  who  was  superintending  the  operation;  and 
a  young  lady  with  chestnut  curls,  who  reclined  in  a  chair  oppo- 
site, and  did  not  seem  greatly  interested  in  the  scene. 

Five  minutes  after  regaining  consciousness,  I  had  the  satisfac- 
tion of  knowing  that  I  was  not  among  strangers  at  all,  but  was 
the  guest  of  Colonel  Beverley  of  "The  Oaks,"  one  of  my  father's 
oldest  and  most  intimate  friends. 

"M.  B.,"  on  the  handkerchief  I  had  picked  up,  stood  for  Mis9 
May  Beverley,  his  daughter. 

On  the  evening  of  the  same  day,  my  arm  felt  perfectly  easy ; 
and  I  was  talking  politics  with  my  host. 

He  was  really  a  character.  Imagine,  my  dear  reader,  a  tall, 
thin  gentleman,  nearly  seventy  years  of  age,  with  long  gray  hair 
falling  in  elf-locks  on  his  shoulders;  eyes  as  keen  and  piercing 
as  those  of  an  eagle;  but  a  smile  so  soft  and  sweet  that  no 
woman's  ever  exceeded  it  in  suavity.  In  every  movement  of  my 
host  was  the  elegance  and  distinction  of  the  old  race  of  cavaliers ; 


46  SURRY    OF    BAGLE'S-NEST. 

and  in  the  gray-haired  gentleman  with  the  sweet  and  winning 
smile,  I  was  utterly  unable  to  recognize  the  stern  old  doctrinaire 
whom  my  father  had  often  described  to  me — the  politician  of 
passions  so  fiery,  invective  so  withering,  and  a  combativeness  so 
fierce  and  implacable.  I  knew  that  in  the  great  war  for  State- 
rights,  when  South  Carolina  opposed  Jackson  in  1832,  no  man 
had  been  more  violent  and  resolute  than  Colonel  Beverley,  who 
had  passionately  espoused  the  views  of  Mr.  Calhoun,  and  proved 
himself  a  fire-brand  of  agitation  and  revolution. 

I  need  not  record  the  conversation  which  took  place  between 
myself  and  my  host.     Great  was  his  satisfaction  when  he  heard 
that  I   was   a  son  of  "  old  Phil.  Surry,  one  of  his  very  best 
friends.     I  must  stay  as  long  as  possible.     "What  was  the  news 
from  Richmond  ?    These  cursed  Yankees  were  going  to  invade  the 
South — the  bludgeon  against  the  rapier — the  crop-eared  Puritan 
against  the  Cavalier !     Curse  the  Pilgrim  Fathers,  and  the  whole 
canting  breed  of  'em !     The  South  had  been  fighting  them  for 
fifty  years  in  Congress,  and  was  ready  now  to  meet  them  on  the 
battle-field  I     John  Brown  nor  John  Devil  should  put  the  heel 
on  him/     Old  Patrick  Henry  and  Randolph  of  Roanoke  saw 
clearly  how  the    thing    was  going  to  work — saw  the    '  poison 
under  the  wings '  of  this  Federal  contrivance,  which  had  proved 
a  dead  failure  from  the  start !     The  South  had  paid  two-thirds 
of  the  revenues  of  Government ;  had  furnished  all  the  Presi- 
dents ;  had  built  up  the  shipping  and  manufactures  of   New 
England ;  and  now  these  people  had  grown  presumptuous  and 
greedy — they  must  put  to  death  the  bird  that  laid  the  golden  egg, 
and  get  all  at  once  !     But  the  South  was  ready  to  meet  them — ■ 
she  would  resist  with  the  bayonet !     She  might  be  overwhelmed 
by  numbers,  but  she  would  fight  to  the  last.     With  the  denial  of 
the  doctrine  of  State-rights  every  thing  went ;  old  John  C.  Cal- 
houn saw  the  working  of  the  venom  of  Federalism  and  warned 
the  North  of  the  consequences;  but  they  scoffed  at  him.     "War 
was  now  at  hand,  and  the  only  hope  for  the  country  was  in  the 
triumph  of  the  South.     If  she  failed,  all  was  over ;  mobocracy 
would  rule,  and  all  go  to  ruin.     Against  this  the  South  was  the 
only  breakwater.    She  must  spread  the  old  State-rights  banner 


PYGMALION.  47 

to  the  winds — meet  the  enemy  breast  to  breast — and  if  she  fell, 
let  her  fall  with  the  old  State-rights  flag  around  her — glorious 
even  in  her  death  !" 

As  the  old  doctrinaire  thus  spoke,  his  face  flushed,  his  eyes 
burned,  his  form  quivered.  It  was  the  fiery  outburst  of  a 
veritable  volcano — you  could  smell  the  hot  odor  of  the  hissing 
lava! 


XY 

PYGMALION. 

I  have  no  doubt  my  fair  readers — if,  indeed,  I  am  honored 
with  such — have  carefully  omitted  perusing  that  tirade  upon  pol- 
itics— hastening  on  to  some  imaginary  "love  scenes." 

Alas  !  mesdames,  there  were  none  at  all  to  record.  It  would 
charm  me,  not  only  upon  your  account,  but  my  own  too,  to 
describe  some  romantic  interviews  with  this  young  lady ;  but  I 
should  be  compelled  to  draw  upon  my  imagination.  That  would 
not  become  the  narrator  of  real  events — and  thus,  all  these  ex- 
pectations must  be  disappointed. 

The  young  lady  did  not  melt — indeed,  she  seemed  to  freeze 
more  and  more.  I  can  scarcely  describe  the  phenomenon  which 
I  then  witnessed.  Liking  is  apt  to  conciliate  liking  in  return — 
to  a  certain  extent,  at  least ;  but  the  more  she  knew  of  me,  the 
less  Miss  May  Beverley  seemed  to  care  for  me.  It  is  impossible 
to  describe  the  chill  and  stately  air  with  which  the  young  lady 
received  my  attentions.  It  was  the  bearing  of  a  duchess  who 
repels  one  of  the  commonalty ;  and  it  commenced  the  very  daj 
after  my  arrival. 

She  came  into  the  parlor  where  I  was  lying  on  a  sofa,  and 
slightly  bending  her  head,  upon  which  the  bright  chestnut  hair 
was  now  disposed  in  rich  braids,  inquired  calmly  how  I  felt. 

"Thank  you — a  great  deal  better!"  was  my  reply,  as  I  gazed 
with  unconcealed  admiration  upon  the  beautiful  girl.    "My  hurt 


4:8  SURRY    OF    EAGLE  '  S-NEST. 

is  very  trifling,  and  I  am  only  too  glad  I  received  it — for  it  haa 
given  me  the  happiness  of  knowing  you." 

I  must  have  spoken  with  ardor,  and  betrayed  what  I  felt,  for, 
as  her  eyes  met  my  own,  full  of  eager  feeling,  her  cheek  colored 
slightly,  and  she  turned  away. 

"  I  have  spoken  too  warmly  for  a  stranger,  perhaps,  Miss  Bev- 
erley— a  mere  acquaintance  of  yesterday,"  I  added,  "  but  you  will 
pardon  me,  I  hope — these  are  not  times  of  ceremony.  Feeling 
ripens  rapidly  now,  and  the  acquaintance  of  to-day  becomes  the 
friend — perhaps  more  than  the  friend — of  to-morrow!" 

She  turned  toward  me — as  I  caught  her  expression,  my  heart 
sank.  It  was  a  statue  of  ice  which  I  saw  before  me — or  marble, 
if  you  like  the  comparison  better. 

"Pardon  my  words,  Miss  Beverley,"  I  murmured,  "but  you 
are  not  a  mere  acquaintance.  You  exposed  yourself  to  danger 
to  assist  me  in  the  wood  yonder  " — 

"Not  at  all,  sir!"  she  interrupted,  in  a  freezing  tone;  "it  was 
nothing;  and  I  would  have  done  as  much  for  any  one." 

I  sank  back,  silent,  and  cruelly  mortified. 

"Does  your  arm  pain  you  much,  sir?  I  hope  it  is  better  this 
morning.  The  sun  is  coming  out,  I  think,  and  the  weather 
promises  to  be  fair  again." 

With  which  words,  Miss  May  Beverley  moved  calmly  to  the 
window ;  looked  out ;  raised  her  snow-white  hand  to  arrange  the 
braids  of  her  hair ;  and  then  slowly  glided  out  of  the  apartment 
— cold  and  stately  to  the  last. 

There  is  the  first  interview,  my  dear  feminine  reader.  Do 
you  think  that  it  promises  any  thing  "thrilling,"  or  "roman- 
tic "  ? 

It  was  a  specimen  of  all.  Miss  Beverley  did  not  thaw — she 
grew  colder  and  colder  as  I  grew  warmer. 

For  I  no  longer  tried  to  deceive  myself  upon  the  subject  of  my 
sentiments  toward  her.  In  a  day — an  hour,  as  it  were — her  love 
had  become  the  only  thing  worth  living  for.  Her  eyes  were  the 
stars  of  the  evening  sky — her  chestnut  hair  the  golden  waves  of 
sunset — in  her  smile  was  the  splendor  of  the  pensive  moon  that 
shines  in  the  summer  night ! 


PYGMALION.  49 

In  other  words,  it  was  a  world  all  "moonlight,  love,  and  flow- 
eis"  which  I  inhabited,  my  dear  reader.  See  the  song  for  the 
rest. 

"When  my  mind  was  not  reduced  to  an  imbecile  condition  about 
May  Beverley,  I  used  to  lie  on  my  sofa,  and  flush  with  anger  at 
a  thought  which  incessantly  recurred.  Had  Baskerville,  with 
whom  she  had  been  walking  that  evening,  basely  uttered  in  her 
presence  something  to  my  discredit?  Had  he  misrepresented 
that  encounter  at  the  hotel,  and  thus  poisoned  the  young  lady's 
mind  against  me?  When  that  thought  came  to  me,  I  clinched 
my  hands,  and  fell  into  silent  rages.  More  than  once  I  deter- 
mined to  ask,  plainly,  the  truth  ;  but  the  cold  face  of  the  young 
lady  always  repelled  me.  That  pride  and  disdain,  too,  which 
is  the  vice  of  the  Surry  family,  withheld  me.  If  she  would 
take  that  man's  word,  and  condemn  me  without  a  hearing, 
she  cared  nothing  for  me !  Why  should  I  make  myself  ridi- 
culous ? 

In  other  words,  I  was  in  love  with  Miss  May  Beverley,  and  my 
choice  seemed  to  be  unlucky.  It  is  an  old  story.  I  don't  mean 
to  prose  on  with  it. 

I  will  only  say,  that  "  day  after  day,"  as  sighs  the  hero  of 
"  Love's  Chidings,"  the  same  phenomenon  was  presented — a  man 
burning,  and  a  woman  freezing.  The  longed-for  thaw  never  took 
place  in  May  Beverley ;  and  even  in  her  selection  of  songs — for 
she  played  and  sang  exquisitely — she  seemed  to  repel  her  unfor- 
tunate wooer. 

Sec!  she  strolls  to  the  piano,  yonder,  with  that  "regal,  indo- 
lent air,"  of  a  born  duchess,  half  haughty,  half  careless,  all  grace- 
ful. The  April  sun  lights  up  her  waving  hair,  and  crowns  the 
bright  head  like  a  glory. 

Listen !  she  touches  the  piano,  and  then  commences  singing 
in  a  voice  which  echoes  through  the  old  hall.  Do  you  know 
what  site  is  telling,  whoever  listens,  in  that  song?  Here  is  the 
cheerful  and  jovial  view  of  life  and  human  nature  which  I  listen 
to  for  my  mental  improvement,  as  I  lie  on  my  sofa,  or  beud  over 
her,  my  face  close  to  the  perfumed  hair  and  the  snow-white  neck, 
encircled  by  the  thin  golden  chain. 
3 


50  SURRY    OF    EAGLE'S-NEST. 

(Favorite  air  of  young  ladies  in  the  land  of  "Dixie,"  as  sung 
by  Miss  May  Beverley,  con  espress. :) — 

"  In  the  Mrth  of  spring  to  meet ! 

In  the  morning  oir  so  sweet ! 
And  woman's  love  is  sweeter  than  roses  in  May: 

Butihe  birth  of  spring  will  fleet, 

Like  the  roses  at  her  feet! 
And  love,  lite  the  seasons,  must  soon  pass  away. 

"The  summer  sun  is  bright, 

And  the  swallow's  wing  is  light — 
And  woman's  love  is  warm  as  a  fair  summer  day; 

But  the  sun  will  set  at  night, 

And  the  swallow  wing  his  flight — 
And  love,  like  the  summer,  must  soon  pass  away ! 

"  The  leaf  on  autumn's  bough 

In  the  moonlight  glimmers  now — 
And  woman's  love  i8  as  pure  as  its  soft  silver  ray; 

But  the  leaf  goes  on  the  gale, 

And  the  silver  moon  will  fail — 
And  love,  like  the  autumn,  must  soon  pass  away  J 

"  Gay  winter  sweeps  us  by, 

Joy  beams  in  every  eye — 
And  woman's  love  is  gayer  and  brighter  than  all ; 

But  chill 's  the,  winter's  breath, 

And  the  eye  must  close  in  death — 
And  love,  death,  and  winter  must  all  pass  away  1" 

The  young  lady  ceases — her  voice  dies  away,  and  I  observe : 

"That  is  a  lively  and  inspiring  air  you  have  selected,  Miss 
Bevsrley.  It  is  my  favorite  song — after  the  '  Miserere '  in 
Trovatore.'1'' 

I  laugh  as  I  make  this  brilliant  jest,  but  no  smile  touches  the 
beautiful  face  of  the  young  lady. 

"Do  you  like  Verdi?"  she  says,  indifferently.  And  touching 
the  piano,  she  commences  singing — 

"Ah!  fors'  61ui." 

As  she  sings,  her  voice  soars,  triumphs,  and  the  silver  trills 
ring  through  the  old  hall  and  the  adjoining  grounds.  This  time 
I  do  not  joke — I  hang  upon  her  lips.    "With  eyes  glowing,  boson? 


PYGMALION.  51 

heaving,  and  cheeks  full  of  passionate  feeling,  the  young  lady 
gives  to  the  music  of  Verdi  an  effect  which  I  never  dreamed  it 
possessed. 

The  ice  had  melted,  roses  had  tinted  the  marble  face — it  was  a 
passionate  girl,  not  a  cold  and  stately  woman,  which  I  saw 
before  me. 

Then  the  air  died  away ;  the  color  in  the  cheeks  faded :  she 
was  marble  again. 

"You  spoke  of  the  'Miserere,'  "  she  said,  in  a  tone  of  careless 
indifference,  as  she  ran  her  hands  over  the  instrument  before 
her. 

"Yes,  it  is  the  soul  of  sadness." 

"  Then  you  do  not  wish  to  hear  it  ?" 

"  On  the  contrary,  I  should  be  delighted  if  you  would  sing  it." 

"  I  will  try,  then ;  if  I  weary  you,  tell  me,  and  I  will  stop." 

If  she  wearied  me !  The  idea  seemed  curious  to  the  hapless 
individual  who  could  have  stood  there,  beside  her,  and  listened 
to  her  forever. 

So,  in  slow,  measured  strains,  came  that  singular  air  which 
Owen  Meredith  heard  Mario  sing,  "  Aux  Italiens,'1  and  which 
brought  back  his  early  love  from  the  grave.  That  is  a  tenor 
song,  my  dear  reader,  as  you  doubtless  know  ;  and  before  I  heard 
May  Beverley,  I  thought  no  woman  could  sing  it.  She  made  the 
music  magical,  and  I  still  hear  that  strain,  echoing  forever  in 
my  memory.  Was  it  her  own  heart  speaking  in  the  mournful 
music  ?  Had  she  ever  bidden  farewell  to  any  love  in  those  wild 
accents  ?  I  knew  not — I  only  knew  that  her  voice  produced  an 
indescribable  effect  upon  me,  and  that,  on  that  day,  I  did  not 
ask  her  to  sing  again. 

I  pass  on  from  that  period  of  enchantment.  It  was  only  for  a 
moment,  now  and  then,  that  the  violet  eyes  glowed,  the  cheeks 
filled  with  color.  The  young  lady  remained  as  obstinately  chill 
as  before ;  and  yet  a  little  incident  at  the  time  seemed  to  indicate 
that  she  possessed  deep  and  earnest  feelings. 

There  was  a  young  Charley  Beverley,  her  brother,  who  had 
been  off  on  a  visit  somewhere,  but  returned  now  to  "  The  Oaks  " 
to  get  his  equipments  and  join    the  forces    on  the  Potomac. 


52  SURRY    OF    EAGLE'S-NEST. 

Charley  was  a  gay  youngster,  of  about  seventeen,  with  only  one 
passion  in  the  world — to  ride  unbroken  colts :  only  one  ambi- 
tion— to  shoulder  a  musket  and  go  and  fight  "the  Yankees." 
He  was  a  favorite  with  all,  but  his  sister  May  seemed  his  special 
adorer.  She  hung  around  the  youth  with  the  deepest  fondness 
and  devotion;  sewed  night  and  day  at  his  articles  of  clothing; 
could  not  bear,  apparently,  to  have  him  out  of  her  sight,  and, 
when  he  was  leaving  her,  covered  his  face  with  passionate 
kisses,  and  burst  into  an  agony  of  tears.  As  the  youth  disap- 
peared, she  passed  by  a  certain  gentleman  with  an  air  of  utter 
unconsciousness  of  the  fact  of  his  existence,  and,  going  to  her 
chamber,  did  not  reappear  again  until  the  next  morning. 

She  then  made  her  appearance,  as  cold  and  haughty  as  before. 
All  traces  of  emotion  had  vanished  from  her  face ;  her  tones 
were  calm  and  indifferent ;  her  walk  as  measured,  stately,  and 
queenlike  as  before. 

Altogether,  I  came  to  the  conclusion  that  Miss  May  Beverley 
was  a  singular  character,  and  I  only  regretted  that*I  had  been 
so  unfortunate  as  to  become  the  victim  of  her  beautiful  eyes. 
Things  are 'in  a  desperate  condition  with  a  wooer,  my  dear 
reader,  when  he  is  sorry  that  he  ever  met  "her."  If  you  are 
young  and  susceptible,  I  strongly  advise  you  to  avoid  the  Jilles 
du  marbre.  Sunshine  and  roses  are  much  better  than  the  gray 
skies  of  winter,  when  the  shining  flowers  seem  destined  never  to 
bloom  again! 


XVI. 

THE   GUEST   WHO   DID   NOT   COME. 

Two  or  three  more  scenes  will  terminate  those  days  at  "  The 
Oaks."  I  shall  now  ask  the  reader  to  be  present  at  a  grand 
dinner  which  the  hospitable  Colonel  Beverley  gave  in  honor  of 
his  chance  guest. 

Here  is  the  company  seated  at  the  broad  table,  in  the  large 
dining-room,  through  which  go  and  come,  with  shining  faces, 
the  ebon  subjects  of  the  well-known  "irrepressible  conflict." 


THE    GUEST    WHO    DID    NOT    COME.      53 

After  the  dessert  is  finished,  the  ladies  disappear — Mrs.  Bever- 
ley hland  and  smiling,  her  daughter  silent  and  distraite. 

The  old  Colonel  then  hegins  to  talk  politics.  He  has  sur- 
rounded himself  with  a  Spartan  phalanx  of  "  original  secession- 
ists," every  one  of  whom  is  a  passionate  admirer  of  the  great 
Calhoun,  and  the  unanimity  of  the  company,  upon  politics,  is 
almost  painfully  perfect.  Tt  is  hard  to  find  points  of  difference 
sufficient  to  afford  discussion ;  but  the  Colonel  manages  to  pick 
out  an  old  gentleman  who  injudiciously  "doubts  if  the  views  of 
Mr.  Calhoun  were  entirely  practicable " — and  then  the  storm 
begins.  Let  us  close  our  ears  to  it,  reader,  and  remain  quiet ;  it 
will  soon  expend  its  wrath.  Listen !  it  is  already  over,  and 
Colonel  Beverley  is  addressing  your  humble  servant. 

''Captain  Surry,"  he  says,  bowing  and  drinking  a  glass  of  Ma- 
deira to  my  good  health,  "  you  are  here  in  the  midst  of  the  lead- 
ing traitors  and  chief  gentlemen — the  two  being  the  same — of 
the  County  of  Fauquier.  There  is  not  a  single  neighbor  of  mine 
absent  to-day — yes,  one  is  not  here,  but  no  invitation  ever  tempts 
him." 

"  Who  is  your  hermit,  Colonel?" 

"Youmayw?ll  give  him  that  name.  I  sent  him  a  pressing 
invitation  to  meet  you  to-day,  but  he  very  politely  refused." 

I  began  to  laugh. 

"I  am  more  anxious  than  ever  to  hear  who  he  is — as  not  even 
the  charms  of  my  society  can  move  him." 

"  His  name  is  Mordaunt." 

"I  do  not  know  him." 

"But  surely  you  must  have  heard  of  him?" 

"Not  in  the  least.  We  are  too  good  Virginians  down  there 
on  the  Rappahannock,  to  hear  of,  or  care  for,  anybody  out  of  our 
own  county." 

The  old  Colonel  laughed  and  replied  : 

"Well,  that  accounts  for  it;  but  I  must  tell  you  about  Mor- 
daunt. He  is  one  of  our  celebrities,  though  few  people  have 
ever  seen  him.  In  one  word  you  have  described  him — he  is  an 
absolute  hermit." 

"  And  where  does  he  live?" 


54  SURRY    OF    EAGLE'S-NEST. 

"  On  a  spur  of  the  Blue  Ridge,  a  few  miles  from  this  place. 
His  life  of  seclusion  is  only  a  part  of  the  singularity  ahout  him." 

"  You  excite  my  curiosity  more  and  more,  Colonel." 

"Well,  I'll  try  and  gratify  it,  though  I  really  know  little,  of 
my  own  knowledge,  in  regard  to  him.  There  is  something  mys- 
terious about  the  man  and  his  history — a  somewhat  doubtful  re- 
commendation you  will  say — but  our  Mordaunt  is  unquestionably 
a  gentleman.  He  is  still  a  young  man,  between  thirty-five  and 
forty  at  least ;  but  is  known  to  have  served  against  the  French 
in  Algiers,  where  he  fought  for  many  years,  taking  the  side  of 
the  Arabs.  It  is  even  said  that  he  became  a  leading  chief  among 
these  wild  bands,  and  was  as  active  against  their  enemies  as  if 
he  had  been  a  good  Mussulman." 

"That  is  a  curious  story,  Colonel." 

"  Is  it  not  ?  But  the  man  and  his  surroundings  are  even  more 
singular.  I  have  met  him  two  or  three  times— purely  by  acci- 
dent— and  can  describe  him  to  you.  He  is  tall  and  dark — in 
fact,  burnt  nearly  black  by  the  sun  of  the  tropics  ;  but  his  manner 
is  very  distinguished,  and  it  is  impossible  not  to  see  that  he  is 
a  gentleman  born  and  bred.  Now,  as  to  his  mode  of  living.  It 
is  said  that  his  house,  which  is  situated  in  a  secluded  part  of  the 
country,  near  the  mountain,  is  full  of  tiger  skins,  strange  weapons, 
and  a  hundred  outlandish  mementos  of  travel  in  distant  lands. 
An  ample  estate  enables  him  to  gratify  every  whim,  but  he  is 
said  to  live  very  simply,  spending  most  of  his  time  in  his  study. 
When  not  thus  engaged,  he  is  hunting,  or  taking  long  and  solitary 
rides  among  the  mountains.  All  the  old  hunters  know  him,  and 
look  upon  him  as  a  demi-god.  He  prefers  their  society,  appa- 
rently, to  that  of  all  other  persons — though  he  scarcely  ever  opens 
his  lips,  it  is  said,  except  to  speak  in  Arabic  to  a  Moorish  attend- 
ant he  has  brought  with  him  from  Algiers.  Is  not  all  that  rather 
curious  ?" 

"  A  real  chapter  from  the  pages  of  romance,  Colonel ;  but  what 
is  the  mystery  of  his  life  ?" 

"I  really  do  not  know — nor  does  anybody.  He  came  to  live 
in  this  country  a  few  years  ago,  but  he  goes  nowhere,  discourages 
visitors,  and  it  was  only  by  accident  that  I  made  his  acquaintance. 


THE    "LAST    RIb&   TOGETHER."  55 

I  have  invited  him  to  come  and  see  me,  two  or  three  times,  but 
he  always  sends  a  cool,  though  perfectly  courteous,  refusal.  I 
thought  I  could  tempt  him  to  break  his  rule  to-day — but  you  see 
I  have  failed." 

"  I  am  sorry,  for  I  really  should  like  to  meet  your  singular 
hermit." 

And  the  conversation  glided  to  other  topics.  Soon  afterward 
the  company  rose,  and,  hearing  the  piano,  I  went  into  the  draw- 
ing-room and  found  Miss  May  Beverley  singing  the  "  Tempesta 
del  mio  cor."  Was  there  really  a  storm  raging  in  the  heart  of 
that  statue  ?  I  had  never  seen  her  look  colder,  or  less  repellant 
in  her  manner,  though  the  music  of  Verdi  had  brought  a  faint 
rose-tint  to  the  beautiful  cheeks. 

She  ceased  singing  as  I  entered,  and  strolled  carelessly  to  the 
window. 

"It  is  a  very  fine  day,"  she  said,  beating  a  tattoo  on  the  pane. 

"Superb,"  I  replied,  "  and  I  am  sorry  that  the  company  to-day 
prevented  the  ride  you  promised  to  take." 

"  Yes — I  think  I  should  have  enjoyed  it." 

"Will  you  ride  to-morrow,  then?" 

"  If  you  wish,  sir." 

"What  were  you  playing?" 

"Nothing." 

And  she  staolled  away  languidly,  preferring  her  own  thoughts, 
apparently,  to  my  society.  Pygmalion  sighed — his  statue  seemed 
never  destined  to  glow  with  human  feeling. 


XVII. 

THE    "LAST    RIDE    TOGETHER." 

There  is  a  piece  in  Browning  called  "  The  Last  Ride  Together." 
Did  you  ever  meet  with  it,  my  dear  reader?  It  is  worth  your 
notice.  Read  that  wonderful  extravaganza,  that  supreme  cry 
of  passion  from  a  heart  that  fails  in  the  struggle,  and  you  will 


56  SURRY    OF    EAG-LE'S-NEST. 

have  some  idea  of  the  feelings  of  a  friend  of  yours  when  he  took 
his  last  ride  with  May  Beverley. 

The  month  of  flowers  had  come  now — May  had  bloomed  in  all 
its  glory — and  the  girl  who  bore  the  name  of  this  month  of 
months  seemed  blooming  too.  The  balmy  breezes  blew  against 
her  cheeks  just  tinted  with  the  rose,  made  the  ribbons  of  her 
bodice  flutter  gayly,  and  just  stirred  the  bright  waves  of  her 
chestnut  hair,  in  which  nestled  a  single  flower  of  spring.  The 
lips,  pensive  and  half  parted,  had  the  ripe  red  of  the  carnation — 
the  great  dreamy  eyes  were  as  blue  as  the  sky  above  us. 

Then  I  knew  what  the  poet  meant  when  he  made  his  unfor- 
tunate hero  utter  that  prayer,  that  he  might  "ride  forever,  for- 
ever ride  "  by  the  side  of  the  woman  he  adored. 

The  young  lady  had  promised  to  conduct  me  to  a  lofty  hill, 
from  which  there  was  a  superb  view,  and  we  were  soon  flying 
along  through  fields  and  forests  toward  the  Blue  Ridge.  In  half 
an  hour  we  reached  the  hill,  and  I  saw  far  beneath  me  the  green 
slopes  of  Fauquier,  crowned  with  white  mansions,  embowered 
in  the  young  spring  foliage.  To  the  right,  and  in  rear  of  us,  rose 
the  shaggy,  pine-clad  sides  of  the  Blue  Ridge. 

She  checked  her  horse,  and,  leaning  her  cheek  upon  her  hand, 
murmured,  as  she  gazed  at  the  beautiful  landscape : 

"What  a  contrast  to  the  tedium  and  sameness  of  society!" 

Then  looking  at  me  with  her  large,  pensive  eyes: 

"I  believe  I  will  turn  hermit,"  she  added. 

"  Like  the  Solitary  of  the  Blue  Ridge  ?  He  must  have  inocu- 
lated you  with  his  enthusiasm  for  retirement." 

"I  have  never  seen  him,"  was  her  reply. 

"  And  you  do  not  know  where  he  lives?" 

"No,  I  have  never  heard." 

And  she  relapsed  into  silence. 

I  see  her  now  as  I  saw  her  then — leaning  her  fair  cheek 
languidly  upon  the  delicate  gauntlet,  and  gazing  pensively  toward 
the  blue  horizon.  She  wore  a  brown  habit  which  revealed  every 
outline  of  the  exquisite  figure— slender,  and  swaying  like  the 
reed,  or  the  lily  ;  the  plume  in  her  riding-hat  just  shaded  her 
white  forehead,  and  against  the  snowy  neck  shone  the  glossy 


THE    "LAST    RIDE    TOGETHER."         57 

braids  of  her  hair.  There,  sitting  upon  her  docile  bay,  in  the 
bright  spring  afternoon,  May  Beverley  was  "  a  sight  to  make  an 
old  man  young." 

You  fancy,  perhaps,  that  the  spring  sunshine  had  at  last 
thrilled  her  pulses,  and  that  the  marble  statue  had  become  a 
happy  girl.     Listen! 

"Life  is  a  dull  affair,"  she  murmurs;  "nature  the  only  solace, 
and  even  that  is  not  very  gay.  Come,  sir,  you  must  be  tired  of 
waiting.     Let  us  ride  on." 

So  we  descended  the  hill,  and  rode  in  the  direction  of  another. 
Pausing  to  enjoy  every  new  view,  the  young  lady  did  not  seem 
to  observe  the  lapse  of  time.  The  light  slowly  faded,  darkness 
approached,  and  we  found  ourselves  many  miles  from  "The 
Oaks,"  in  a  wild  and  unknown  region. 

"We  had  better  return,"  I  said.  "But  do  you  know  the 
country?" 

She  looked  round  carelessly,  and  replied : 

" Not  in  the  least,  sir?" 

"  Then  I  really  think  we  had  better  lose  no  time  in  retracing 
our  steps  before  the  light  entirely  disappears." 

She  bent  her  head  indifferently,  and  turned  her  horse  into  a 
road  which  led  through  a  belt  of  woods. 

"  This  is  the  direction  to  '  The  Oaks,'  "  she  said.  "  I  know  by 
the  mountain." 

And  she  tranquilly  rode  on ;  but  I  was  by  no  means  satisfied. 
We  were  in  a  wild  and  rugged  country — I  knew  how  easily  a 
road  is  lost — and  night  was  now  upon  us.  We  had  entered  what 
resembled  an  interminable  forest,  and  soon  the  winding  charac- 
ter of  the  road  we  pursued  rendered  it  almost  certain  that  we 
were  not  proceeding  in  the  direction  of  "  The  Oaks." 

"  I  am  very  sorry  to  inform  you,  Miss  Beverley,"  I  said  at  last? 
"that  we  have  lost  our  way.  This  a  slight  affair  to  myself,  but 
the  air  is  growing  cold,  and  you  are  very  thinly  clad." 

"  It  is  nothing,"  she  replied  coolly ;  "I  never  take  cold,  and  we 
can  inquire  at  the  first  house  we  find." 

But  none  appeared — still  stretched  on  aud  on  the  interminable 
forest. 

3* 


58  SURRY    OF    EAGLE'S-NEST. 

It  was  then  that  I  thought  of  the  "Last  Ride"  of  Browning. 
If  we  never  reached  "  The  Oaks  "  any  more  forever,  hut  con- 
tinued thus  to  ride,  side  by  side !  would  that  destiny  he  hard?  I 
would  have  accepted  it. 

But  suddenly  a  light  glimmered  through  the  foliage  to  the  left, 
and  we  soon  reached  a  tall  gate,  which  evidently  led  into  the 
grounds  of  a  dwelling-house.  "We  passed  through  it,  rode  on 
through  an  avenue  of  magnificent  trees,  and,  ascending  a  gentle 
slope,  found  ourselves  in  front  of  a  low,  brick  mansion,  with 
extensive  wings,  over  which  drooped  the  arms  of  some  enormous 
black  oaks. 

1  dismounted,  and  at  the  first  sound  of  the  knocker — I  remember 
it  was  a  scowling  face,  in  bronze,  like  the  mask  of  the  old  trage- 
dians— the  door  opened,  and  a  singular  figure  presented  itself. 
It  was  that  of  a  young  Moor,  about  eighteen  apparently,  with  a 
slender  frame,  swarthy  face,  and  sparkling  black  eyes.  He  wore 
an  ornamented  caftan,  a  braided  jacket,  and  around  his  waist 
was  tied  a  shawl  by  way  of  girdle. 

I  briefly  explained  the  object  of  my  visit,  but  the  young  Moor 
shook  his  head,  evidently  to  indicate  that  he  did  not  understand 
my  words.  I  was  about  to  repeat  my  attempt  to  make  him  com- 
prehend me,  when  all  at  once  my  eyes  encountered  an  object 
which  drove  everything  else  from  my  mind. 

The  door  leading  into  an  apartment  on  the  right  of  the  entrance 
was  open ;  a  chandelier  hanging  from  the  centre  of  the  ceiling 
lit  up  a  strange  scene  of  furs,  weapons,  and  pictures ;  but  what  at 
once  riveted  my  gaze  was  a  portrait  hanging  on  the  wall  of  the 
apartment,  full  in  the  light  of  the  chandelier. 

That  portrait  was  the  most  exact  likeness  of  the  young  lady  I 
had  encountered  at  the  house  in  the  Wilderness — Violet  Grafton. 

I  gazed  at  it  with  very  great  astonishment.  Why  was  that 
picture  hanging  here?  Could  the  Solitary  of  the  Mountains— 
for  this  was  plainly  the  house  of  Mordaunt — know  the  girl 
buried  yonder  in  that  obscure  mansion?  Here  plainly  was  her 
portrait ;  what  relation  did  she  bear  to  him  ? 

I  was  still  gazing,  lost  in  astonishment,  at  the  beautiful  face, 
with  its  mild  eyes  peering  out  from  the  golden  ringlets,  when 


THE    "LAST    RIDE    TOGETHER."  59 

the  hoof-strokes  of  a  horse  resounded  on  the  avenue,  and  the 
young  Moor,  who  had  remained  standing  by  me  motionless,  at 
once  hastened  to  the  door. 

A  man  riding  a  powerful  black  horse  had  halted  there,  and 
across  the  pommel  of  his  saddle  I  saw  the  dead  body  of  a  bear, 
still  bleeding  from  a  deep  gash  in  the  throat.  The  light  then 
fell  upon  the  features  of  the  horseman.  I  recognized  the  un- 
known adversary  of  Fenwick  in  the  duel  at  Hollywood  Cemetery. 

Mordaunt — for  the  reader  no  doubt  understands  that  this  was 
the  solitary — saluted  Miss  Beverly  with  profound  but  ice-like 
courtesy.  Then  he  bestowed  a  bow  of  the  same  description 
upon  me. 

I  hastened  to  break  the  awkward  pause  by  an  explanation  of 
the  object  of  our  visit.  Mordaunt  replied  in  a  tone  of  formal 
politeness  that  he  would  send  a  servant  to  guide  us  back — mean- 
while, as  Miss  Beverley  must  be  fatigued,  would  she  honor  him 
by  dismounting  ?  When  this  proposal  was  declined,  the  formal 
personage  uttered  three  words  in  Arabic,  to  the  young  Moor, 
and  in  a  few  minutes  a  mounted  servant  was  ready  to  accom- 
pany us.  Mr.  Mordaunt  was  evidently  accustomed  to  talk  little 
and  to  be  served  promptly.  He  did  not  utter  another  word,  and 
his  formal  air — mingled  with  deep  gloom — had  not  changed  for 
an  instant. 

"You  have  a  magnificent  bear  there,"  I  said  as  I  mounted; 
"was  he  killed  in  the  mountain,  sir?" 

"Yes,  sir,"  was  the  brief  reply;  "he  gave  me  a  hard  fight,  but 
I  mastered  him." 

A  slight  color  came  to  the  swarthy  cheek.  The  recollection 
of  his  combat  seemed  to  please  the  stranger.  But  he  seemed  to 
have  little  desire  to  describe  it  or  to  prolong  the  interview.  His 
manner  was  perfectly  polite,  but  no  ice  could  be  colder;  and, 
thanking  him  for  the  guide,  I  set  out  with  the  young  lady  for 
"The  Oaks." 

A  ceremonious  bow  from  the  tall,  gloomy  figure — a  slight 
movement  of  Miss  Beverley's  head  in  return — so  we  parted. 

"  "Well,  what  do  you  think  of  the  hermit?"  I  said,  laughing,  as 
we  rode  on. 


60  SURRY    OF    EAGLE'S-NEST. 

"He  is  very  cold  in  his  manners,"  was  her  indifferent  reply. 
"  Something  in  his  past  life  must  have  made  him  melancholy." 
In  an  hour  we  had  reached  "  The  Oaks." 


XVIII. 

THE    ALGERINE. 

On  the  next  morning  I  mounted  my  horse,  and,  following  the 
road  by  which  we  had  returned  on  the  preceding  night,  soon 
found  myself  again  in  sight  of  Mordaunt's  house. 

The  object  of  my  visit  is  easily  explained.  I  had  never  ceased 
to  remember  the  cold  and  yet  passionate  tones  of  that  deep 
voice  which  had  resounded  before  the  duel  in  Hollywood  Cem- 
etery ;  and  I  know  not  what  it  was  that  told  me,  that  some  great 
tragedy  had  darkened  this  man's  life — some  mortal  poison  im- 
bittered  a  character  grand,  noble,  and  magnanimous.  I  could 
read  that  great  nature  in  the  clear  bold  eyes,  the  proud  curl  of 
the  lips,  and  the  dignity  of  his  most  passionate  utterances.  Now, 
this  man,  in  whom  I  took  an  irresistible  interest,  was  about  to 
be  the  victim  of  a  plot  devised  by  his  bitter  adversary.  The 
young  lady  whose  portrait  was  hanging  on  his  wall — his  friend 
or  his  kinswoman — was  the  object  of  the  dark  designs  of  Fen- 
wick,  as  I  had  ascertained  that  morning  in  the  Wilderness.  It 
was  certain  that  these  designs  were  unknown  to  Mordaunt. 
"Was  it  not  absolutely  incumbent  upon  me,  as  a  man  of  honor,  to 
put  him  on  his  guard  by  revealing  them? 

It  did  not  take  me  very  long  to  decide  that  question ;  and  the 
result  was  my  visit.  I  entered  the  tall  gate,  passed  between  the 
long  rows  of  trees,  through  the  extensive  grounds,  and,  dismount- 
ing, grasped  the  scowling  knocker,  and  let  it  fall.  This  time  a 
negro  answered  my  summons,  and,  showing  me  into  the  room  on 
the  right,  containing  the  portrait,  went  to  announce  my  visit  to 
his  master. 

The  apartment  in  which  I  found  myself  was  curious.  It  was 
evidently  the  private  sitting-room  of  the  owner  of  the  mansion ; 


THE    ALGERINE.  61 

and,  as  I  afterward  discovered,  I  had  been  shown  into  it  by 
mistake.  Nothing  more  outre,  than  the  appearance  of  this  room, 
can  possibly  be  imagined.  The  furniture  was  antique,  with  gro- 
tesque ornaments  carved  upon  the  wood ;  and,  in  place  of  a  car- 
pet, the  floor  was  covered  with  the  most  magnificent  skins,  pre- 
serving the  outlines  of  the  animals  from  which  they  had  been 
torn.  Ilere  were  the  shaggy  spoils  of  the  lion  of  Morocco;  the 
mottled  and  tawny  skins  of  the  Bengal  tiger;  and  the  brilliant 
fur  of  the  East  India  leopard,  as  soft  as  and  more  pliable  than  the 
finest  velvet.  With  these  were  mingled  other  rich  furs;  and  the 
peculiarity  which  struck  me  was  the  extreme  care  taken  to  pre- 
serve the  appearance  of  the  animals.  The  eyes  were  replaced 
by  dazzling  globes  of  agate ;  the  teeth  grinned  threateningly  be- 
neath the  curled  lips ;  and  the  sharp  claws  seemed  ready  to  tear 
any  one  who  approached. 

On  two  sides  of  the  apartment  the  walls  were  covered  with 
books  in  every  language.  The  opposite  wall  was  filled  with  pic- 
tures, representing  combats  on  foot  or  horseback;  encounters 
between  French  Zouaves  and  Arabs  in  white  burnous ;  hunting 

scenes,  and  every  species  of  conflict  with  man  or  animal.  Be- 
tween the  pictures  hung,  crossed  as  trophies,  weapons  of  every 

description,  including  beautiful  specimens  of  the  Moorish  yata- 
ghan, the  Turkish  scimetar,  the  deadly  crease  of  the  Malays,  and, 
by  way  of  grim  jest  apparently,  one  of  the  long  rude  pikes  used 
by  John  Brown  and  his  followers  when  they  invaded  Virginia. 
On  the  table  lay  pipes  of  every  form,  chibouques,  hookahs,  nar- 
ghiles, meerschaums  carved  into  grotesque  or  beautiful  figures, 
and  the  plain  but  excellent  Powhatan  pipe  of  Virginia.  In 
porcelain  jars  beside  them  were  a  dozen  varieties  of  tobacco — 
the  pale  Latakia ;  the  dark  Shiraz ;  the  Peerrique  from  New  Or- 
leans, black,  fibrous,  and  powerful ;  and  the  milder  brown,  that 
which  is  raised  on  the  south  side  of  James  River. 

Across  an  open  volume  of  Hugo's  uLes  Miterables,'n  which  had 
then  just  appeared,  lay  a  black  meerschaum,  which  its  owner 
seemed  to  have  been  lately  smoking. 

Such  was  this  curious  apartment ;  and  it  was  impossible  not  to 
speculate  upon  the  character  of  the  individual  whose  tastes  it 


62  SURRY    OF    EAGLE'S-NEST. 

seemed  to  reflect.  Here  were  the  spoils  of  war  and  the  chase  •, 
the  best  books  of  all  languages ;  and  pictures  which  seemed  to 
start  from  the  walls  as  you  gazed  upon  them.  Was  my  host, 
then,  a  mixture  of  the  soldier,  the  hunter,  the  student,  and  the 
amateur  of  art  ?  One  thing  was  very  plain — that  he  had  little 
taste  for  female  beauty :  not  a  picture  of  the  entire  collection 
contained  a  single  female  figure.  The  portrait  of  Miss  Grafton 
was  the  sole  recognition  of  the  existence  of  her  sex. 

I  was  gazing  intently  at  this  portrait,  whose  resemblance  to 
my  beautiful  young  hostess  of  the  Wilderness  struck  me  still  more 
forcibly  than  before,  when  the  door  opened,  I  heard  a  step  be- 
hind me,  and  the  owner  of  the  mansion  entered. 

His  manner,  as  he  greeted  me,  was  characterized  by  the  same 
cold  yet  perfect  politeness  which  I  had  observed  on  the  preced- 
ing evening.  But  in  this  there  was  no  affectation  whatever.  It 
seemed  never  to  have  occurred  to  him  that  he  ought  to  ask,  "To 
what  am  I  indebted,  sir,  for  the  honor  of  this  visit?"  That  is 
a  phrase,  my  dear  reader,  which  is  used  only  in  novels,  or  by 
charlatans.  Mr.  Mordaunt's  bearing  was  gloomy,  but  that  of  a 
Virginia  gentleman  welcoming  a  guest.  He  was  evidently  a 
man  of  the  world,  however,  and,  like  the  Black  Douglas,  "  his 
hand  was  his  own/'  He  was  perfectly  polite — seemed  to  regard 
my  visit  as  a  courtesy  bestowed  upon  hiin — but  there  everything 
ended.  Behind  the  host  was  the  man — and  with  that  personage 
Mr.  Mordannt  evidently  thought  that  I  had  nothing  to  do. 

His  voice,  as  he  conversed  upon  the  events  of  the  day,  was 
deep,  measured,  and  sonorous :  his  manner,  although  gloomy,  was 
high-bred,  and  what  we  call,  for  want  of  a  better  word,  "  distin- 
guished." In  half  an  hour  I  saw  plainly  that  this  hermit  of  my 
imagination  was  not  only  a  deep  and  powerful  thinker,  but  a 
trained  and  self-collected  man  of  the  world. 

From  the  fugitive  topics  of  the  moment,  the  conversation 
passed  to  art,  and  I  said,  as  I  pointed  to  the  picture  of  Miss  Graf- 
ton: 

"I  was  admiring  that  fine  head  when  you  entered,  Mr.  Mor- 
daunt.     It  is  a  portrait,  is  it  not  ?" 

"Yes,  sir,"  was  his  reply,  in  a  voice  of  perfect  coolness. 


THE    ALGERINE.  63 

MI  think  I  know  the  original." 

"  The  original!"  he  said,  with  a  sudden  glow  upon  his  swarthy- 
face;  "you  know  the  original?  That  is  impossible,  sir — she  is 
dead."  ' 

"Dead!"  I  exclaimed,  in  my  turn,  "why,  that  is  impossible t 
I  saw  her  only  a  few  days  ago." 

My  host  greeted  this  statement  with  a  look  of  unmistakable 
astonishment.  He  did  not  speak  for  a  moment ;  and  then  said, 
coolly,  in  his  deep,  measured  voice : 

"  You  have  doubtless  met  some  lady  who  resembles  this  por- 
trait, sir.     I  repeat,  that  the  original  is  long  sinco  dead." 

"Are  you  certain,  Mr.  Mordaunt?" 

"Perfectly  certain,  sir." 

And  I  saw  something  like  a  shadow  pass  over  his  broad  fore- 
head. 

"Your  statement  fills  me  with  the  utmost  astonishment,"  I 
said.  "  Then  you  do  not  know  a  young  lady  named  Violet  Graf- 
ton?" 

"  I  have  never  heard  of  her,  sir." 

I  looked  at  my  host.  It  was  impossible  to  believe  that  this 
man,  with  the  proud  and  loyal  look,  the  deep,  earnest  voice,  and 
the  bearing  so  cold  and  grave,  could  be  deceiving  me.  And  yet 
it  was  utterly  impossible  that  this  portrait  was  not  intended  for 
Miss  Grafton.     The  likeness  was  positively  startling. 

Curiosity  had  now  mastered  me  and  absorbed  every  other  sen- 
timent. I  determined  to  penetrate,  if  possible,  that  armor  of  re- 
serve in  which  my  singular  host  had  encased  himself. 

"You  have  never  heard  of  Miss  Grafton,  Mr.  Mordaunt?"  I 
said.     "Well,  at  least,  you  know  a  Mr.  Fenwick,  do  you  not?" 

The  question  struck  home.  The  head,  which  had  drooped  as 
though  bowed  down  by  some  gloomy  recollection,  suddenly  rose 
erect,  and  Mordaunt  gazed  at  me  with  a  glance  so  piercing  that 
the  dark  eyes  seemed  straining  to  penetrate  my  inmost  soul. 
Then  the  head  sank  again,  and  he  replied,  in  tones  more  cold  and 
formal  than  I  had  yet  heard  from  his  lips: 

"  Yes,  I  know  a  person  named  Fenwick,  sir." 

"This  person,  at  least,  is  alive,  is  ho  not?" 


64  SURRY    OF    EAGLE'S-NEST. 

"I  believe  so,"  he  said;  and  a  flash  of  unmistakable  hatred  lit 
up  his  black  eye. 

"  Well,  I  know  it,  Mr.  Mordaunt." 

"  You  are,  then,  acquainted  with  him  ?"  was  his  cold  interrog- 
atory. 

"  I  have  never  exchanged  a  word  with  him,  but  I  have  seen 
him  twice,  and  under  somewhat  peculiar  cirsumstances.  On  the 
first  occasion  he  was  engaged  in  a  duel — on  the  second,  he  was 
plotting  against  the  peace  of  a  young  lady." 

Mordaunt  looked  at  me  fixedly,  and  said : 

"Where  did  that  duel  take  place,  sir?" 

"In  the  grounds  of  Hollywood  Cemetery,  at  Richmond." 

He  did  not  reply  for  a  moment,  and  his  dark  eye  still  remained 
fixed  upon  my  own.     Then  he  said,  with  perfect  coolness : 

"  I  really  do  not  see  how  your  presence,  upon  that  occasion, 
could  have  escaped  me,  sir.  I  thought  that  the  principals  and 
seconds  in  the  affair  were  the  only  persons  who  witnessed  the 
meeting  you  refer  to." 

In  ten  words,  I  recounted  everything.  Mordaunt  listened  with- 
out interrupting  me,  and,  when  I  had  finished,  said,  with  cool 
indifference : 

"Well,  that  was  really  curious;  and  your  explanation  shows 
that,  in  this  world,  many  things  pass  us  by  without  attracting 
our  notice.  I  thought  the  parties  in  that  affair  were  the  only 
persons  present." 

"  You  thought,  also,  that  your  adversary  was  dead,  Mr.  Mor- 
daunt— but  he  is  not.  He  is  not  only  alive,  but  at  this  very 
moment  is  engaged  in  a  conspiracy  against  a  young  lady  who,  if 
not  the  original,  is  the  exact  image  of  the  portrait  hanging  yon- 
der on  your  wall." 

And  I  briefly  informed  my  host  of  that  encounter  with  Fenwick, 
at  the  house  in  the  Wilderness ;  repeating  the  words  which  I  had 
heard  him  utter  on  the  steps.  Mordaunt  listened  with  close 
attention,  and  seemed  especially  struck  with  my  description  of 
Miss  Graf  ton. 

"The  image  of  my  portrait !"  he  muttered;  "that  is  very 
•trange — these  singular  resemblances 2" 


THE    ALGERINE.  65 

His  eye  wandered  to  the  picture  as  lie  thus  muttered  to  him- 
self, and  he  seemed  to  pass  in  gloomy  thought  to  other  scenes. 
His  brows  contracted,  his  lips  became  rigid ;  then  something  like 
a  bitter  smile  came  to  them. 

Suddenly  he  seemed  to  realize  my  presence,  and  his  glance  was 
lowered,  nis  face  resumed  all  at  once  its  former  expression  of 
impenetrable  coldness. 

"  You  will  pardon  my  absence  of  mind,  sir,"  he  said,  in  his 
formal  tone.  "  I  am  almost  a  recluse  here,  and  the  habit  grows 
upon  me.  Thanks  for  your  visit,  and  this  information  in  regard 
to  that  person  and  his  plots.  You  know  more  of  my  relations 
with  him  than  I  thought  you  could  ;  but  I  am  sorry  to  say  that 
circumstances  of  a  private  nature  will  not  permit  me  to  explain 
an  enmity  which  must  appear  somewhat  singular  to  you.  You 
heard  the  words  I  addressed  to  my  adversary's  second,  when  he 
attempted  to  stop  that  affair.  Thus  you  know  in  what  light  1 
regard  this  person.  I  have  sworn  the  vendetta  against  him,  Cap- 
tain Surry,"  continued  my  host  with  a  flash  of  the  dark  eyes 
which  resembled  lurid  lightning,  "  and  I  will  keep  that  oath ! 
There  is  something  more  sure  and  fatal  than  the  instinct  of  the 
bloodhound :  it  is  the  eye  and  hand  of  the  man  who  has  sworn 
to  have  his  vengeance!" 

"I  tell  you  this,  sir,"  he  said,  more  coldly,  after  pausing  for  a 
moment,  "  because  you  are  a  gentleman  of  mind  and  discretion, 
who  will  feel  no  temptation  to  repeat  my  words.  So  much  for 
the  relations  which  exist  between  myself  and  that  wretch.  Of 
this  Miss  Grafton,  I  declare  to  you  again,  that  I  know  nothing. 
If  she  resembles  this  portrait,  as  you  seem  to  think,  the  resem- 
blance is  purely  accidental.  As  to  the  plot  of  that  person,  and 
the  danger  she  is  exposed  to,  I  shall  only  say  that  I  hope  soon 
to  remove  all  possibility  of  annoyance  from  that  quarter." 

There  was  no  mistaking  the  meaning  of  these  words,  so  cold 
and  full  of  menace ;  but  the  speaker  seemed  to  suppress,  by  a 
powerful  effort  of  his  will,  any  further  exhibitions  of  enmity,  and 
plainly  wished  to  change  the  topic. 

"My  servant  has  shown  you  into  my  private  study,  sir,"  he 
now  said  with  his  former  air  of  courteous  reserve,  "  and  these 


M  SURRY    OF    EAQ-LE'S-NEST. 

decorations,  no  doubt,  appear  to  you  eccentric.  They  are  the 
rubbish  of  travel,  and  were  intended  for  no  eye  but  my  own." 

"They  interest  me  much,"  was  my  reply.  "You  have  visited 
Europe?" 

"  Yes,  I  spent  some  years  there." 

"  In  Algiers." 

"  Ah  !  you  discover  that  from  my  pictures  and  weapons." 

"No,  I  heard  it  before  I  ever  saw  you." 

"Well,  gossip  is  right  for  once,  sir." 

"You  served  against  the  French." 

"  Yes,  I  took,  part  with  the  Arabs." 

"  And  have  brought  back  one  of  the  faithful." 

"You  mean  my  Moor,  Achmed?" 

"Is  that  his  name?" 

"  Yes.  The  youth  took  a  fancy  to  me  when  he  was  a  mere 
child,  and,  since  the  death  of  his  father,  who  fell  in  battle,  has 
remained  with  me.  I  am  very  much  attached  to  him,  and  I 
believe  that  he  would  lay  down  his  life  for  me." 

"Were  you  often  engaged  with  the  French  ?" 

"  Frequently — they  are  the  best  troops  in  the  world.  I  did 
not  rank  myself  on  the  side  of  the  Arabs  from  any  dislike  of 
their  enemies,  but  because  their  soil  was  invaded." 

"  The  same  principle  will,  doubtless,  lead  you  to  offer  your 
sword  to  the  South." 

"Assuredly." 

"  You,  then,  think  of  entering  the  army?" 

"I  never  thought  upon  the  subject.  I  am  a  Virginian — I  fight. 
therefore,  as  a  matter  of  course." 

•'  lrou  are  right,  Mr.  Mordaunt.  And  what  branch  of  the  ser- 
vice, may  I  ask,  do  you  intend  to  enter?" 

"The  cavalry — it  is  that  with  which  I  am  most  familiar.  I 
have  already  raised  a  company,  and  it  is  nearly  ready  for  the 
field.  The  men  are  all  mountaineers  of  this  region,  excellently 
mounted,  and  have  done  me  the  honor  to  choose  me  for  their 
captain,  from  having  heard,  I  suppose,  that  I  am  not  entirely  a 
novice  in  military  matters.  But  I  am  indulging  in  egotism. 
Will  you  smoke?     Here  are  several  sorts  of  pipes  and  varieties 


THE    ALGERINE.  67 

of  tobacco,  sent  me  from  Europe.  I  prefer  a  plain  meerschaum, 
and  the  Lynchburg  in  that  jar  near  your  hand:  you  will  find  it 
excellent." 

I  declined,  and,  pointing  to  the  volume  upon  which  his  own 
pipe  rested,  said : 

"I  see  you  are  reading  ' Les  Miserahles.''  It  absorbed  me,  in 
Richmond,  where  I  found  a  copy.     Do  you  like  it?" 

"It  is  a  mournful  book,"  replied  Mordaunt,  "and  at  times 
affects  even  as  rough  a  husk  as  my  own.  It  is  rather  too  long, 
perhaps;  but  then  the  subject  is  an  inexhaustible  one,  the  history 
of  '  the  wretched.'  " 

"It  is  the  story  of  humanity." 

"You  are  right,"  said  my  host,  "  a  tragedy,  that  is  to  say." 

"  Are  all  lives  tragic  ?" 

"  When  they  are  not  dull.  Life  is  a  poor  affair,  to  my  thinking 
Captain  Surry,  and  the  shadow  predominates.  But  we  are  growing 
didactic.     Are  you  fond  of  arms  ?     I  have  a  tolerable  collection." 

And  taking  down  weapon  after  weapon,  Mordaunt  pointed  out, 
with  evident  interest  in  the  subject,  their  various  merits. 

"Man  is  a  blood-thirsty  animal,"  he  said,  "and  cudgels  his 
brains  to  invent  improved  instruments  of  death.  But  after  all, 
this  mediaeval  bludgeon,  studded  with  points  of  steel,  is  as  effec- 
tive as  the  last  invention.  My  own  favorite  is  the  light  French 
sabre,  pliable  and  pointed.  Held  at  tierce-point,  with  the  horse 
at  a  gallop,  it  easily  pierces  through  from  breast  to  back." 

And  he  passed  to  other  weapons.  When  they  were  exhausted, 
\ie  called  my  attention  to  the  pictures. 

When,  an  hour  afterward,  I  parted  with  my  host,  I  felt  that  I 
had  been  conversing  with  a  remarkable  man.  Beneath  the  cold 
exterior  I  could  easily  see  the  traces  of  a  powerful  organization  ; 
in  the  flash  of  the  dark  eye  there  was  a  latent  force  and  passion 
which  would  make  this  man  equal  to  the  most  desperate  under- 
takings. Such  should  have  been  the  commander  of  the  French 
cuirassiers  who  charged  the  living  volcanoes  of  English  infantry 
at  Waterloo :  such  the  officer  at  the  head  of  the  "  Six  Hundred  " 
who  rode  through  the  Russian  fire  at  Balaklava.  Something 
told  me  that,  in  work  like  this,  the  stern  and  passionate  spirit 


68  SURRY    OF    EAGLE'S-NEST. 

under  that  mask  of  ice  would  rejoice — and  I  lived  to  see  the 
hour  and  the  man  both  come. 


XIX. 

THE     STATUE    SPEAKS. 

The  moment  now  approached  when  I  must  leave  this  domain 
of  enchantment,  and  forget  all  the  dreams  in  which  I  had  in- 
dulged.    My  arm  was  well,  and  duty  called  me. 

I  went  without  reluctance,  for  it  was  plain  now  that  my  suit 
was  hopeless.  It  is  not  an  agreeable  confession,  but  I  am  com- 
pelled to  state  that  Miss  May  Beverley  seemed  to  care  no  more 
for  me  on  the  last  than  on  the  first  day  of  my  visit.  I  go  fur- 
ther, and  say  that  I  think  she  cared  less  for  me. 

I  had  kept  her  handkerchief,  picked  up  on  that  evening,  in- 
tending to  return  it  when  the  moment  came,  with  "  a  few  re- 
marks," such  as  Ave  read  in  novels.  How  absurd  did  this  "silly 
romance"  now  appear!  That  pretty  little  drama  quite  hung 
fire,  and  I  thought  I  saw  her  laughing  instead  of  blushing  !  Now, 
when  a  young  lady  laughs  upon  such  occasions,  you  might  as 
well  pocket  your  romance,  get  into  the  saddle,  and  wave  her 
"adieu  for  evermore!" 

That  is  all  excellent  advice,  and  I  bestow  it  upon  the  reader 
in  the  gayest  manner  to-day.  You  see  the  wound  has  healed  : 
at  that  time  it  was  bleeding.  I  jest  now,  but  then  I  was  the 
prey  of  anger,  disappointment,  outraged  pride,  wounded  vanity, 
and  wretchedness  generally.  Those  poisonous  distillations  of 
the  human  heart  arc  not  wholesome,  and  did  not  contribute  very 
greatly  to  my  happiness  at  the  time. 

"When  one  day  I  announced  my  intention  to  set  out  for  the 
Potomac  on  the  next  morning,  I  found  the  Colonel  and  Mrs. 
Beverley  much  more  deeply  impressed  by  that  important  state- 
ment than  the  young  lady ;  and  indeed  it  seemed  to  be  a  matter 
of  perfect  indifference  to  her  whether  I  stayed  or  went  away. 
I  found  myself  alone  with  her  that  evening  on  the  steps  of  the 


THE    STATUE    SPEAKS.  69 

portico,  and  it  is  impossible  to  imagine  any  thing  more  coolly 
indifferent  than  her  demeanor. 

Disappointment,  anger,  mortified  pride ! — see  an  allusion 
above  to  the  feelings  of  one  of  the  parties  to  that  interview. 

The  moon  was  shining,  and  the  dreamy  splendor  lit  up  the 
beautiful  head  'with  the  waving  hair  and  the  great  violet  eyes. 
I  had  never  known  May  Beverley  look  so  beautiful,  but  there 
was  an  expression  upon  her  face  which  I  had  never  seen  there 
before.  Pride,  weariness,  and  a  sort  of  scornful  despair — all 
were  written  in  those  eyes,  and  upon  those  lips,  in  characters 
that  could  not  be  mistaken.  I  could  scarcely  extract  a  word 
from  her :  she  seemed  brooding  over  something,  and  from  time 
to  time  looked  furtively  toward  me,  instantly  withdrawing  her 
eyes  when  they  met  mine. 

"  What  does  all  this  mean!"  I  said  to  myself,  with  a  sort  of 
gloomy  surprise.  "  Mademoiselle  seems  distraite  to-night,  and 
with  something  on  her  mind.  Well,  I'll  try  and  see  if  I  can't 
arouse  her." 

And,  suppressing  a  bitter  laugh  which  rose  to  my  lips,  I  said: 

,l  This  is  a  charming  night!  It  reminds  me  of  one  in  Rich* 
mond  not  long  since — on  the  Capitol  Square,  where  the  musio 
wus  playing." 

She  did  not  seem  to  hear  me,  but  I  saw  her  face  flush  and 
then  grow  pale. 

"I  saw  you  there  that  night,"  I  went  on;  " did  I  never  tell 
you  I  saw  you  ?  That  day  in  the  storm  was  not  our  first  meet- 
ing." 

She  turned  and  looked  at  me. 

"  You  saw  me  !"  she  said,  in  a  low  tone. 

"Certainly!  I  had  that  great  pleasure;  and  you  don't  think 
it  possible  that  I  should  forget  it?" 

She  must  have  observed  my  bitterness,  for  a  strange  expression 
came  to  her  face. 

"  You  were  walking  with  Mr.  Baskerville  :  is  that  gentleman 
a  friend  of  yours?" 

A  lurid  light  came  to  her  eyes,  and  her  roses  all  hided. 

Looking  me  straight  in  the  eyes,  she  remained  silent  for  ser- 


70  SURRY    OF    EAGLE'S-NEST. 

eral  minutes,  and  I  could  see  her  face  in  the  moonlight  flush 
crimson.  Then  this  was  succeeded  by  a  pallor  so  deadly  that  I 
thought  she  was  about  to  faint;  she  placed  her  hand  on  her 
heart,  and,  still  looking  straight  at  me,  murmured  hoarsely : 

"I  am  engaged  to  Mr.  Baskerville!" 

The  blow  I  had  received  from  that  falling  limb  in  the  forest 
was  nothing  to  those  words.  I  gazed  at  the  speaker  with  an  air, 
I  am  convinced,  of  imbecile  Wonder,  and  in  vain  attempted  to 
utter  some  reply.  She  must  have  seen,  or  fancied  she  saw,  an 
expression  of  scorn  upon  my  pale  face,  for  suddenly  her  brow 
flushed  again,  and  she  haughtily  exclaimed : 

"  You  seem  exceedingly  surprised,  sir !  Do  you  find  any  thing 
very  extraordinary  in  this  announcement?  Yes,  sir — I  repeat 
that  I  am  engaged  to  be  married  to  Mr.  Baskerville  1" 

What  could  I  reply?  There  are  moments  when  all  language 
fails,  and  the  very  blood  seems  to  stagnate.  I  remained  thus 
dumb  and  bewildered,  looking  at  the  person  who  had  uttered 
these  words ;  and  then  slowly  came  the  full  conviction  of  my 
misery — slowly,  as  the  gloomy  moon  rises,  blood-red  and  men- 
acing, over  some  battle-field  covered  with  the  dead.  This,  then, 
was  the  end  of  all  my  romantic  dreams ! — this  was  the  mortal 
blow  which  had  struck  me  to  the  very  heart — May  Beverley  was 
to  marry  BasTcerville  ! 

As  I  muttered  that  name  audibly,  in  a  tone  of  inexpressible 
scorn,  the  young  lady  uttered  a  hoarse  moan,  and  exclaimed, 
with  cruel  sarcasm : 

"One  would  really  suppose,  sir,  that  you  did  not  approve  of 
the  match,  and  were  going  to  refuse  your  consent  to  it!" 

Those  words  revived  me,  like  a  bitter  tonic.  They  aroused  all 
my  pride,  and  made  me  a  man  again.  Suppressing  every  exhibi- 
tion of  emotion,  I  said,  in  a  tone  as  cold  and  measured  as  I 
could  assume  at  the  moment : 

"  I  beg  that  Miss  Beverley  will  pardon  any  thing  in  my  manner 
which  is  offensive  or  disagreeable  to  her.  She  must  be  aware 
that  my  approval  or  disapproval  of  any  course  she  may  pursue 
amounts  to  nothing  whatever ;  and  I  am  quite  sure  that  my 
opinions  even  are  a  matter  of  complete  indifference  to  her.     I 


THE    STATUE    SPEAKS.  71 

did  fancy,  at  one  time,  that  there  was  something  like  friendship 
between  us;  but  that,  too,  is  scattered  to  the  winds  at  this 
moment.  I  will  not  intrude  further  upon  your  presence,  Miss 
Beverley." 

And,  with  bitterness  at  my  heart,  I  rose  and  was  about  to 
leave  her.  She  retained  me  with  a  single  movement  of  her 
hand — the  other  was  twitching  convulsively  at  the  gold  chain 
around  her  neck.  She  had  turned  her  head  away — she  now 
looked  at  me,  and  her  eyes  were  full  of  tears. 

"Pardon  me,"  she  said,  in  a  low  voice,  "  I  did  not  mean  to 
offend  you.  I  have  known  you  but  a  short  time,  but  I  would 
not  willingly  forfeit  your  regard.  I  am  very  wretched,  sir !  No 
one  seems  to  care  for  me.  You  think  me  cold,  my  temper  dis- 
dainful— do  not  deny  it,  sir,  I  have  read  it  in  your  eyes.  I  am 
very  proud,  sir — I  do  not  value  the  good  opinion  of  everybody — 
but  I  would  do  much  to  retain  yours." 

She  paused :  her  voice  trembled ;  but  I  saw  in  her  eyes  the 
light  of  a  determined  resolution.  She  had  evidently  made  up 
her  mind  to  pursue  some  course  from  which  her  feelings  recoiled. 

"I  have  informed  you  of  my  engagement,  sir — do  you  know 
why  ?  I  am  about  to  utter  words  which  no  woman  should  speak 
lightly,  without  a  good  reason." 

She  stopped  again — then  her  cheeks  were  covered  with  blushes, 
and  she  said,  hurriedly  : 

"You  are  attached  to  me — I  could  not  avoid  seeing  it!  You 
are  an  honorable  gentleman,  and  I  should  have  despised  myself 
forever  if  I  had  suffered  you  to  be  deceived — to  remain  in  igno- 
rance of  what  I  have  told  you !  I  have  resolved  many  times  to 
tell  you — I  had  not  the  courage.  Every  day  I  formed  that  reso- 
lution— every  day  it  has  been  broken  !  I  have  tried  to  discourage 
you — I  have  made  myself  very  disagreeable.  I  have  been  cold, 
satirical,  even  bitter — when  I  would  have  given  worlds  to  have 
appeared  in  my  natural  character,  and  won  your  friendship  ! 
You  know  all  now — I  am  very  unhappy,  sir — but  I  am  a  proud 
person,  and  I  acted  honorably,  did  I  not?  This  avowal  is  almost 
killing  me,  sir  ! — but  I  must  go  on  until  I  have  finished  !  It  has 
made  me  sick  at  heart  to  reflect  that  you  regarded  me  as  a  young 


72  SURRY    OF    EAGLE'S-NEST. 

lady  whose  hand  was  disengaged,  when  I  was  the  victim  of  a 
formal  contract.  Yes,  victim!  I  say  victim!"  she  exclaimed, 
in  a  voice  of  inexpressible  aDguish ;  "  the  victim  of  a  hateful,  an 
intolerable  engagement!  You  shall  know  all,  sir — you  must 
know  it !  My  father  was  the  friend  of  Mr.  Baskerville3s  father 
■> — he  is  dead  now — and  an  agreement  was  made  between  them 
that  when  Mr.  Frederick  Baskerville  and  myself  grew  up,  we 
should  be  married.  He  came  to  see  me  when  he  was  a  child, 
and  continued  to  do  so  as  he  grew  older.  I  was  educated  in  the 
idea  that  I  was  some  day  to  marry  him — I  admired  him  as  a  boy, 
for  his  grace  and  ease  of  manner — and,  when  I  was  but  fifteen, 
engaged  myself  to  him.  His  father,  who  was  very  fond  of  me, 
died  soon  afterward,  rejoicing  that  the  marriage  would  now 
surely  take  place  ;  and  my  own  father,  who  is  the  slave  of  his 
word,  declares  that  I  am  doubly  bound,  first  by  his  promise  to 
his  friend  who  is  dead,  and  again  by  my  word  to  Mr.  Basker- 
ville!" 

Again  she  paused;  her  voice  had  a  cold  and  desolate  intona- 
tion now,  which  jarred  upon  the  ear.  I  pitied  her,  but  at  the 
name  of  Baskerville  all  my  rage  and  misery  overflowed. 

"You  do  not  speak!"  she  murmured  in  a  piteous  tone,  ''per- 
haps I  weary  you." 

"Your  words  tear  my  heart!"  I  said.  "Why  do  you  utter 
them?  Why  not  simply  say  'Go!  I  care  nothing  for  you!' 
Your  confidence  honors  me — but  I  scarcely  understand  its  ob- 
ject!" 

"You  shall  soon  understand?"  she  exclaimed  bitteily.  "I 
mean  that  I  am  engaged  to  be  married  to  Mr.  Baskerville,  and 
that  I  cannot  bear  him ! — that  for  years  past,  since  I  have  dis- 
covered his  real  character,  I  have  shuddered  at  that  contract ! — 
that  my  life  is  imbittered  by  the  very  thought  of  marrying 
him ! — and  yet  nothing  I  can  do  or  say  will  change  my  father's 
purpose,  or  prevent  him  from  insisting  upon  this  marriage  with 
a  man  I  actually  loathe!" 

It  was  a  wail  of  despair  I  listened  to — the  cry  of  a  broken 
neart.  I  forgot  my  own  anguish  as  I  listened  to  that  voice,  and 
would  have  given  all  I  hoped  to  possess  of  fame  or  wealth  or 


THE    STATUE    SPEAKS.  73 

happiness  to  have  drawn  the  poor  girl  to  me  and  sheltered  hef 
in  my  arms. 

Setting  my  teeth  together,  I  could  only  mutter  : 

"When  is  this  marriage  to  take  place?" 

"When  I  am  twenty-one,"  she  murmured. 
-    "And  you  will  marry  that  man?" 

"I  must." 

The  words  sounded  like  a  knell.     What  was  there  to  reply? 
I  looked  at  her  as  she  held  down  her  head,  crying  silently. 

"  Do  you  remember  that  moonlight  night  in  Richmond  ?" 

"  Yes." 

"  Here  is  your  handkerchief,  which  I  picked  up — I  return  it  to 
you." 

And  I  placed  it  in  her  hand. 

"I  saw  you  for  the  first  time  that  night — and  now  that  my 
dream  is  over — now  that  you  deny  me  all  hope,  and  have  resolved 
upon  this  marriage  with  a  man  you  abhor — I  can  now  tell 
you  calmly,  and  will  tell  you  that  I  loved  you  from  that  mo- 
ment ! — that  I  love  you  now — as  a  man  loves  with  his  blood  and 
his  heart!  I  did  not  know  your  name  when  I  saw  you  that 
night — I  never  expected  to  meet  you  again — and  yet  that  day 
in  the  storm  I  opened  my  eyes  to  see  you  bending  over  me !  I 
thought  that  Good  Fortune  smiled  upon  me  then — but  you  stead- 
ily grew  colder  from  that  hour.  To-day,  I  know  why,  and  I 
honor  you  !  You  are  a  noble  girl !  The  misery  of  miseries  is, 
that  you  are  going  to  marry  this  man,  whom  you  despise.  You 
are  right — he  is  a  poor  creature ! — pardon  me !  there  is  some- 
thing here  at  my  heart  that  fills  me  with  bitterness — it  is  the 
thought  that  you  are  to  be  the  wife  of  that  person!  That  res- 
olution disarms  me — I  have  no  strength  to  contend  against  it ! 
What  can  I  do?  Kill  him?  Would  you  marry  me  then?  lam 
conquered — unless  you  do  what  you  have  a  right  to  do  before 
God  and  man  ! — refuse  to  fulfil  that  contract !  Will  you  re- 
fuse?" 

"  I  cannot !"  came  in  a  low  moan  from  the  girl. 
"Then  farewell." 

Both  rose  at  the  same  moment.     Her  face  was  as  white  aa  a 
4 


74  SURRY    OF    EAGLE'S-NEST. 

sheet,  and  the  hand  she  gave  me  as  cold  as  ice.  She  placed  the 
other  over  her  eyes  and  retired,  without  uttering  a  sound,  to  her 
chamber. 

On  the  next  morning  she  did  not  appear,  and  I  left  "The 
Oaks  "  without  again  seeing  her. 


XX. 

THE    RUINED   CHURCH    AND   THE    STRANGER. 

I  entered  the  great  Valley  of  Virginia  through  Ashby's  Gap, 
on  a  May  morning  which  rendered  the  scene  inexpressibly  lovely. 
The  Shenandoah  glided  away  beneatli  the  mottled  arms  of  the 
huge  sycamores  upon  its  banks,  with  a  murmur  as  soft  and 
sweet  as  the  distant  tinkling  of  silver  bells;  green  fields  extended 
on  every  side ;  and  in  the  west  rose  the  blue  ramparts  of  the 
Massinutton  and  Great  North  Mountains,  as  beautiful  and  tran- 
quil as  some  happy  dream.  It  was  hard  to  realize  that  war 
would  ever  stamp  his  red  hoof  upon  this  Arcady,  all  loveliness 
and  repose ;  or  that  the  day  would  come  when  the  threat  of  a 
Federal  commander  would  nearly  be  carried  out,  that  "  a  crow 
flying  over  the  region  should  be  obliged  to  cany  his  own  ra- 
tions." 

And  now  as  I  enter  upon  new  scenes  of  my  memoirs,  I  beg 
leave  to  notify  the  kindly  reader  that  I  shall  endeavor  hereafter 
to  entertain  him  with  something  more  interesting  than  my  pri- 
vate feelings.  Why  should  I  inflict  upon  that  amiable  personage 
a  long  and  lachrymose  paragraph  all  about  the  heavy  heart 
which  a  friend  of  his  bore  away  from  "  The  Oaks  " — or  describe 
the  tragic  emotions  of  that  unfortunate  individual  at  the  pros- 
pect of  seeing  his  sweetheart  marry  his  rival  ?  Alas !  human 
life  is  so  full  of  these  unlucky  affairs,  that  I  think  the  less  we 
hear  of  them  the  better! 

I  am  therefore  obdurately  "resolved  to  be  gay,"  and  am  reso- 
lutely determined  that,  if  possible,  not  a  single  wail  of  anguish 
shall  be  heard  from  the  hero  of  these  memoirs.     Is  not  life  a 


THE    RUINED    CHURCH.  75 

comedy,  and  the  music  lively  ?  Reader  mine  !  I  who  write  have 
seen  both  good  and  bad  fortune  in  my  time ;  and  it  has  always 
seemed  best  to  me  to  bear  the  first  with  a  modest,  the  latter  with 
a  courageous  heart. 

So  we  pass  away  now  from  those  days  at  "The  Oaks."  From 
the  mast  the  long  streamers  wave  farewell  to  the  little  bark  that 
glided  across  our  course,  and  has  disappeared.  Bon  voyage  !  fair 
May  Beverley !  May  the  sea  be  smooth  before  you !  You  and  I 
go  different  ways! 

Turning  to  the  right  at  Berry's  Ferry,  I  passed  a  mansion  pic- 
turesquely perched  upon  a  hill  with  a  background  of  woods, 
around  the  portico  of  which,  I  remember,  some  young  ladies 
were  trailing  a  sweetbrier  rose  in  full  blossom.  All  this  was 
the  very  opposite  of  war — and  yet  I  lived  to  witness  a  hot 
fight  upon  that  very  lawn,  and  to  see  the  spring  grass  dyed  with 
blood. 

My  horses  were  fresh,  and  I  expected  to  reach  the  neighbor- 
hood of  Harper's  Ferry  before  evening,  but,  when  in  the  vicinity 
of  Charlestown,  I  found  the  sky,  which  had  long  been  threatening, 
suddenly  indicate  the  approach  of  a  storm.  A  huge  bank  of 
black  cloud,  against  which,  from  time  to  time,  vivid  flashes  of 
lightning  shone,  like  a  fiery  crack  in  the  dark  mass,  admonished 
me  of  the  wetting  which  awaited  me  unless  I  found  shelter;  and 
very  soon  those  heavy  drops,  which  are  the  skirmishers  thrown 
out  by  an  advancing  tempest,  began  to  patter  on  the  leaves. 

I  looked  round  for  some  shelter,  but  saw  no  house  anywhere. 
In  a  clump  of  trees,  however,  a  few  hundred  yards  from  the  road, 
rose  the  ruins  of  an  old  church ;  and  to  this  I  hastened,  dismount- 
ing and  taking  refuge  within,  just  as  the  storm  burst.  The  ruin 
was  almost  roofless;  but  a  projection  over  the  altar-place  fur- 
nished some  protection  from  the  rain ;  and  to  this  spot  I  hurried. 

All  at  once  I  stopped.  A  man  was  kneeling  there,  with  his 
forehead  buried  in  his  hands;  and  at  the  same  moment  I  heard 
the  neigh  of  his  horse,  which  was  tethered  to  a  bough  behind  the 
ruin,  and  had  escaped  my  notice. 

The  falling  rain  and  the  rumble  of  the  thunder  must  have 
drowned  the  noise  of  my  approach ;  for  the  kneeling  man  re- 


76  SURRY    OF   EAGLE'S-NEST. 

mained  in  the  same  posture,  and  perfectly  motionless,  for  at  least 
a  quarter  of  an  hour.  At  the  end  of  that  time,  the  clatter  of  my 
eabre,  as  it  accidentally  struck  against  a  fallen  stone,  attracted 
his  attention,  and,  slowly  rising,  the  stranger  turned  toward  me. 

He  was  a  man  apparently  about  forty  years  of  age,  tall,  gaunt, 
and  awkward-looking.  His  beard  and  mustache,  worn  tolerably 
full,  were  of  a  reddish  brown,  inclining  to  black ;  and  his  eyes 
were  dark,  piercing,  and  with  a  peculiar  glitter  in  them.  The 
stranger  wore  a  plain  gray  uniform,  entirely  without  decorations, 
and  his  forehead  was  covered  by  the  rim  of  a  small  cadet-cap, 
pulled  low  down,  with  the  top  trailing  forward. 

The  expression  of  the  stranger's  countenance  was  mild,  benevo- 
lent, and  modest — his  smile,  as  he  greeted  me  with  an  air  of  sim- 
ple courtesy,  very  winning. 

"I  am  afraid  I  interrupted  your  devotions,  sir,"  I  now  said, 
"  and  I  pray  you  will  pardon  me." 

"I  had  finished,  or  very  nearly,"  was  his  reply,  in  a  voice  of 
peculiar  abruptness,  but  unmistakable  courtesy.  "  This  storm  is 
very  violent,  sir." 

"And  our  place  of  refuge  very  dilapidated." 

"Yes,"  he  said,  smiling;  "but  there  seems  great  fitness  in 
taking  refuge  in  this  holy  place." 

"  I  understand.  You  mean  that  the  church  is  the  best  shelter 
from  the  storms  of  life.  I  am  not  a  Christian  myself,  but  you 
will  not  find  me  differ  with  you  upon  that  point,  sir." 

"  I  am  truly  glad  to  hear  it,"  was  his  simple  reply,  in  the  same 
brief  voice.  "  God  has  prescribed  but  one  refuge,  and  the  chief 
duty  he  inculcates  is  prayer." 

There  was  something  simple  and  noble  in  the  man's  bearing  as 
he  spoke ;  and  his  words  seemed  the  most  rational  and  natural 
in  the  world — so  little  of  the  professional  air  of  the  preacher,  so 
to  speak,  did  I  discern  in  them. 

"  You  belong  to  the  army,  sir  ?"  I  now  said,  glancing  at  his 
uniform. 

"Yes,  sir,"  was  his  reply. 

"  May  I  ask  if  you  have  ever  served  before?" 

"Yes,  in  Mexico." 


THE    RUINED    CHURCH.  77 

"  All  ?  in  the  last  war !  Then  you  must  have  seen  some  hard 
fighting?" 

"  I  was  a*  Churubusco,  Chepultepec,  and  other  battles." 

"You  are  fortunate  in  having  returned  safely,"  I  said. 

"  God  spared  me,"  was  his  reply,  in  the  same  simple  tone. 

His  eye  wandered  as  he  spoke,  and  he  seemed  to  be  thinking, 
as  the  thunder  roared  above  the  ruin,  of  those  battles,  which 
had  resembled  it. 

"I  was  many  times  much  exposed,"  he  added,  "but  no  man 
ever  dies  until  his  time  comes.  It  was  the  good  pleasure  of  the 
Almighty,  sir,  that  I  should  be  spared  for  another  conflict." 

"  And  you  doubtless  carry  similar  convictions  into  the  present 
contest?     I  mean  the  doctrine  of  predestination." 

"  That  word  is  much  abused,  sir,"  replied  the  stranger  gravely, 
"yet  it  expresses  the  only  rational  view  of  human  life.  Who 
can  tell  when  he  will  die?  The  bullet  which  is  to  strike  me 
down  may  now  be  moulded,  and  I  may  fall  in  the  first  skirmish 
—or  I  may  pass  through  a  hundred  bloody  battles  untouched. 
If  I  am  to  fall  now,  I  am  to  fall — if  years  hence,  not  until  then — 
if  never,  never!  If  Providence  has  decreed  that  I  shall  die  in 
my  bed,  surely  the  enemy  cannot  harm  me." 

"You  are  right,  sir,"  I  said,  not  a  little  moved  by  the  earnest 
tones  of  the  speaker.  "  All  rational  men  believe  in  the  doctrine 
you  assert.     But  do  you  entirely  discard  free  will?" 

"No,  sir,  by  no  means — I  believe  in  that,  just  as  strongly. 
But  we  touch  upon  the  profoundest  of  all  questions.  It  is  better 
to  obey  than  to  question.  It  is  easy  to  understand  the  precept, 
"Love  one  another,"  if  the  doctrines  of  free  will  and  predestina- 
tion are  difficult!" 

"Love  one  another!"  I  said;  "that  is  a  curious  principle  for  a 
soldier  to  adopt,  is  it  not,  sir?" 

"I  do  not  think  so." 

"  And  yet  we  are  at  the  beginning  of  a  long  and  bloody  war." 

"  War  is  not  opposed  to  the  will  of  God,  sir." 

"  But  it  is  terribly  bloody." 

"So  is  the  surgeon's  knife.     It  is  disagreeable,  but  necessaiT." 

"You,  then,  regard  this  war  as  just  and  inevitable!" 


78  SUERY    OF    EAGLE'S-NEST. 

"  I  do,  sir.  I  would  cheerfully  have  laid  down  my  life  to  have 
prevented  it ;  but  I  believe  that  it  could  not  be  avoided." 

"I  agree  with  you.     Will  it  be  long?     "When  will  it  end?" 

"  I  know  not — nor  do  I  expect  to  see  its  end." 

"You  expect  to  fall?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"And  yet  you  enter  upon  it  cheerfully?" 

"  I  try  to  do  my  duty — God  will  take  care  of  the  rest." 

As  the  stranger  spoke  in  his  simple  and  earnest  voice,  he  raised 
his  right  hand  aloft,  looked  upward,  and,  closing  his  eyes,  muk 
tered  some  inaudible  words  which  seemed  to  be  a  prayer.  So 
singular  was  this  proceeding  that  I  set  my  companion  down  for 
a  confirmed  eccentric ;  and,  not  wishing  to  disturb  him,  went  to 
the  dilapidated  opening,  once  serving  as  a  window,  and  looked 
out.  The  clouds  were  clearing  away — the  blue  began  to  appear 
here  and  there — the  storm  was  over. 

As  I  turned  round,  I  saw  the  stranger  at  my  side,  with  a  smile 
of  exquisite  sweetness  upon  his  features.  At  the  same  moment, 
a  dove,  which  had  made  its  nest  in  a  crevice  of  the  ruin,  winged 
its  way  out,  uttering  a  plaintive  coo  as  it  disappeared.* 

"  We  have  spoken  of  the  probability  of  a  long  and  bloody 
war,"  said  the  stranger  mildly,  "  but  perhaps  we  err  in  our  views 
upon  that  subject.  This  dove  may  be  the  blessed  emblem  of 
peace  and  sunshine,  as  when  one  brought  the  olive-branch  to 
Noah  after  the  deluge." 

"I  hope  so,"  was  my  reply,  with  a  smile;  "but  I  am  afraid 
that  fierce  bird  the  '  Spread-Eagle  '  is  going  to  tear  our  poor  little 
Southern  dove,  and  make  us  return  to  the  'great  and  glorious 
Union,'  sir." 

"There  will  be  much  blood  shed  first,"  was  the  response  of  the 
stranger.  "  But  I  see  the  rain  is  over,  sir.  May  I  ask  what  route 
you  take?" 

"  I  am  going  to  Harper's  Ferry." 

"  Then  we  will  travel  together,  as  I  am  riding  in  the  same 
direction." 


*  Colonel  Surry  stated  to  me  in  conversation  that  this  little  incident  had  never  es- 
caped his  recollection,  and  always  came  back  to  his  miud  with  a  peculiar  charm. — Ed. 


ON    REVIEW.  79 

"  Most  willingly." 

And  we  went  toward  our  horses.  The  stranger  walked,  I  ob- 
served, with  a  peculiarly  awkward  stride,  and  his  seat  in  the  sad- 
dle, as  he  joined  me,  was  very  ungraceful.  But  he  was  evidently 
a  practised  rider,  if  not  a  very  graceful  one. 

Conversing  as  we  rode,  we  passed  through  the  town  of  Charles- 
town,  and,  as  night  fell,  approached  Harper's  Ferry.  My  com- 
panion had  informed  me  that  he  was  returning  from  "Winchester 
when  the  storm  arrested  him,  and  he  now  rode  on  with  the  as- 
sured air  of  one  who  was  returning  to  his  own  quarters. 

The  hills  around  were  covered  with  white  tents,  which  shone 
like  groups  of  waterfowl  in  the  last  rays  of  day ;  and,  reaching 
one  of  these  groups,  very  plain  and  unassuming  in  appearance, 
the  stranger  drew  rein,  and  seemed  to  have  reached  his  journey's 
end. 

"Will  you  stay  with  me  to-night,  sir?"  he  said,  very  courte- 
ously.    "  I  can  offer  you  a  good  bed  of  straw,  and  soldier's  fare." 

"  Thanks  for  your  kind  offer,  but  I  am  looking  for  the  head- 
quarters of  Colonel  Jackson,"  I  replied. 

My  companion  smiled  and  said  : 

"Do  you  want  to  see  him?" 

"  Yes;  I  am  assigned  to  duty  with  him  as  aide-de-camp,  sir." 

"Ah  !  then  you  are ?" 

"  Captain  Surry,  of  the  Virginia  forces." 

"And  my  name  is  Jackson,"  was  the  stranger's  smiling  reply. 
"  I  am  glad  to  make  your  acquaintance,  Captain,  and  to  welcome 
you  to  my  quarters.     I  think  we  shall  be  very  good  friends." 

And  Colonel  Jackson  gave  me  his  hand.  Such  was  our  first 
interview. 


XXI. 

ON    REVIEW 

In  these  memoirs,  my  dear  reader,  I  intend  to  carefully  avoid 
writing  a  history  of  the  war.  See  the  histories  for  that.  I  aim 
only  at  giving  you  a  few  pictures  and  relating  some  incidents. 


80  SURRY    OF    EAGLE'S-NEST. 

Therefore,  go  to  the  grave  and  strictly  reliable  "official  docu- 
ments" for  an  account  of  the  situation  in  May,  1861.  I  need 
only  say,  that  at  that  moment  the  Federal  Government  threat- 
ened Virginia  with  three  great  columns — from  Wheeling,  Wil- 
liamsport,  and  Alexandria ;  and  that  the  second,  commanded  by 
Majer-General  Patterson,  was  about  four  or  five  times  as  great  as 
the  little  "Army  of  Observation  "  at  Harper's  Ferry. 

But  that  army  was  composed  of  excellent  material.  All  classes 
were  mingled  fraternally  in  its  ranks,  by  the  hand  of  that  great 
leveller  called  War.  Here  was  the  high-spirited  boy,  raised  in 
his  elegant  home  on  the  banks  of  the  Shenandoah,  and  the  hardy 
and  athletic  mountaineer  from  beyond  the  Alleghanies.  The 
pale  and  slender  student  lay  down  side  by  side  with  the  ruddy 
soa  of  the  poor  farmer,  who  had  dropped  the  handles  of  the 
plough  to  take  up  the  musket.  All  were  alike  in  one  thing — 
their  eager  desire  to  meet  the  enemy. 

On  the  day  after  my  arrival,  Colonel  Jackson  reviewed  the 
troops.  As  he  rode  along  the  line,  above  which  rose  the  glitter- 
ing hedge  of  bayonets,  I  heard  many  a  smothered  laugh  at  his 
singular  appearance.  In  fact,  the  Colonel's  odd  costume  and 
manners  were  enough  to  excite  laughter.  Fancy  a  sort  of  Don 
Quixote,  reader — gaunt,  bony,  and  angular — riding  an  old,  stiff 
Rosinante,  which  he  pushed  into  a  trot  with  great  difficulty.  This 
figure  was  clad  in  a  gray  coat  already  growing  rusty ;  a  faded 
cap  resting  nearly  upon  the  wearer's  nose ;  top-boots,  huge 
gauntlets,  and  a  leather  stock  which  propped  up  his  chin  and 
sawed  his  ears. 

He  rode  leaning  forward,  with  his  knees  drawn  up,  owing  to 
the  shortness  of  his  stirrups ;  raised  his  chin  in  the  air  in  order 
to  look  from  beneath  his  cap-rim  ;  and  from  time  to  time  moved 
his  head  from  side  to  side,  above  his  stiff  leather  collar,  with  an 
air  of  profound  abstraction.  Add  to  this  a  curious  fashion  of 
slapping  his  right  hand  against  his  thigh,  and  the  curt,  abrupt 
"  Good!— very  good!"  which  was  jerked  from  his  lips  when  any 
report  was  made  to  him :  and  there  is  Colonel  T.  J.  Jackson,  of 
the  Virginia  forces. 

The  young  volunteers  evidently  expected  to  seo  a  gallant  and 


ON    REVIEW.  81 

imposing  figure,  richly  clad,  and  superbly  mounted.  When  this 
scarecrow  appeared,  tliey  with  difficulty  restrained  their  laugh- 
ter. When  the  review  was  over,  and  the  young  men  were 
marched  back  to  their  quarters,  I  learned,  afterward,  that  they 
made  themselves  exceedingly  merry  on  the  subject  of  their  com- 
manders  appearance — not  a  few,  who  had  been  to  the  Lexington 
Institute,  repeating  his  former  nickname  of  "Fool  Tom  Jackson." 

What  was  the  opinion,  it  may  be  asked,  of  his  aide-de-camp, 
who  saw  him  every  hour,  and  had  ample  opportunity  of  observ- 
ing the  man  ?  He  did  not  impress  me  greatly :  and  I  am  obliged 
to  disclaim  the  deep  penetration  of  that  mighty  multitude  who — 
long  afterward — "always  knew  what  was  in  Jackson  from  the 
first."  I  thought  him  matter-of-fact  in  character,  rather  dull  in 
conversation,  and  possessed  of  only  average  abilities.  He  seemed 
a  plodding,  eccentric,  commonplace  martinet.  That  was  the 
light  in  which  I  regarded  this  immortal. 

If  I  did  not  admire  his  intellect,  I,  however,  very  greatly 
respected  his  moral  character.  His  life  was  perfectly  blame- 
less, and  he  had  not  a  single  bad  habit.  Spirit  never  passed 
his  lips,  and  I  should  as  soon  have  expected  the  Potomac  to 
flow  backward  as  to  have  heard  him  utter  an  oath.  He  regu- 
larly said  grace  at  his  simple  meals,  spread  on  the  lid  of  a  camp- 
chest,  and  spent  hours  daily  in  religious  reading  and  prayer.  He 
was  habitually  charitable  in  his  estimates  of  men,  and  seldom 
yielded  to  any  sort  of  irritability.  "Eccentric"  he  was,  in  the 
highest  degree — but  it  was  the  eccentricity  of  a  man  whose 
thoughts  were  half  the  time  in  heaven. 

Three  days  after  my  arrival,  he  called  me  into  his  tent,  and 
began  to  talk  to  me  about  the  war.  He  listened  with  an  air  of 
great  modesty  and  attention  to  my  crude  views,  and,  when  I  ex- 
pressed an  opinion  that  Harper's  Ferry  would  not  be  attacked, 
replied  briefly: 

"I  think  so  too;  it  will  be  flanked." 

He  remained  thoughtful  for  some  moments,  and  then  said : 

"  I  wish  you  to  carry  a  message  for  me  to  Colonel  Stuart, 
Captain ;  you  will  find  him  near  Martinsburg.  Desire  him  to 
picket  heavily  the  whole  front  toward  Williamsport,  and  to  ea- 


82 


SURRY    OF    EAG-LE'S-NEST. 


tablish  relays  of  couriers  to  give  me  intelligence.  I  should  like 
to  hear  what  his  scouts  report.  Before  Patterson  crosses  I  must 
be  ont  of  this  place,  ready  to  fight  him  on  the  " — 

Suddenly  the  speaker  paused,  and  looked  keenly  at  me. 

"Captain,"  he  said,  abruptly,  "never  remember  any  thing 
but  the  message  I  send.  My  intentions  must  be  known  to  no 
one  but  myself.  If  my  coat  knew  my  plans,  I  would  take  it  off 
and  burn  it."* 

I  saluted,  ordered  my  horse,  and  in  half  an  hour  was  on  the 
road  to  Martinsburg. 


XXII. 

I   VISIT   COLONEL   "  JEB.  STUART." 

Passing  rapidly  through  the  beautiful  country  skirting  the 
banks  of  the  Potomac,  I  approached  the  Opequon. 

When  in  sight  of  that  picturesque  stream,  with  it  grassy  banks, 
studded  with  huge  white-armed  sycamores,  I  met  a  cavalryman, 
who  informed  me  that  Colonel  Stuart,  with  a  squadron  from  his 
regiment,  was  at  that  moment  passing  through  the  woods  beyond. 
I  hastened  to  come  up  with  him,  and,  fording  the  stream,  gal- 
loped on  beneath  the  boughs  of  the  gay  spring  forest,  which  was 
ringing  with  the  songs  of  birds. 

Ere  long  I  heard  the  tramp  of  hoofs,  and  a  sonorous  voice 
singing  one  of  my  favorite  songs,  "  The  dew  is  on  the  blossom." 
Five  minutes  afterward  there  appeared  at  a  turn  of  the  road, 
clearly  relieved  against  the  green  background  of  the  leafy  covert, 
the  head  of  a  column  of  horsemen,  in  front  of  whom  rode  the 
singer. 

Let  me  draw  his  outline.  He  was  a  man  of  twenty-five  or 
thirty,  of  low  stature,  athletic  figure,  and  with  the  air  of  a  born 
cavalryman.  There  was  no  mistaking  his  arm  of  the  service. 
He  was  the  cavalier  all  over.  His  boot-tops  covered  the  knee ; 
his  brass  spurs  were  models  of  neatness;  his  sabre  was  light, 


*  His  words. 


I    VISIT    COLONEL    "JEB.    STUART."      83 

flexible,  and  "handy;"  his  gauntlets  reached  to  the  elbows. 
The  young  cavalier  was  evidently  at  home  in  the  saddle,  and 
asked  nothing  better  than  "  a  fight  or  a  frolic."  He  wore  the 
blue  undress  uniform  coat  of  the  United  States  Army,  gathered 
at  the  waist  by  his  sword-belt ;  an  old  brown  pair  of  velveteen 
pantaloons,  rusty  from  long  use,  and  his  bold  face  was  sur- 
mounted by  a  Zouave  cap,  from'which  depended  a  white  "  have- 
lock,"  giving  him  the  appearance  of  a  mediaaval  knight  with  a 
chain-helmet.  Upon  that  proud  head,  indeed,  a  helmet,  with  its 
flowing  plume,  seemed  the  fittest  covering. 

But  I  have  not  finished.  I  am  drawing  the  portrait  of  one  of 
the  immortals,  reader,  and  you  can  afford  to  listen  to  every  de- 
tail. His  saddle  was  a  plain  "  McClellan  tree  "  strapped  over  a 
red  blanket  for  saddle-cloth ;  behind  the  cantel  was  his  oil-cloth, 
containing  a  single  blanket,  and  on  the  pommel  was  a  light  india- 
rubber  overcoat  for  stormy  days.  The  chest  of  his  sorrel  was 
decorated  with  a  brilliant  yellow  breast-cap,  a  blazing  heart  in 
the  centre,  and  the  spirited  animal  champed  a  strong  curb  bit, 
to  which  was  attached  a  single  rein.* 

I  did  not  notice  these  details  when  I  first  saw  Stuart  that  day. 
I  was  looking  at  his  face.  It  was  the  picture  of  martial  gayety 
and  enjoyment.  A  lofty  and  massive  forehead,  blue  eyes  as 
brilliant  and  piercing  as  the  eagle's,  a  prominent  nose,  a  huge 
brown  beard,  and  heavy  mustache,  whose  long  ends  curled  up- 
ward— there  was  Stuart's  countenance.  In  that  face  and  form, 
immense  health  and  physical  strength  shone.  This  man,  it  was 
plain,  could  remain  whole  days  and  nights  in  the  saddle,  never 
growing  weary ;  could  march  all  night,  fight  all  day,  and  then 
ride  a  dozen  miles  and  dance  until  sunrise.    • 

Such  was  the  splendid  war-machine  which  I  saw  beforo 
me ;  such  the  man  who  now  paused  in  his  song,  looked  at  me 
keenly  out  of  his  clear  blue  eyes,  and  gave  me  the  frank  military 
salute  with  his  gauntleted  hand. 


*  Colonel  Surry  laughed,  and  said,  when  I  read  this  passage:  "Don't  you  think 
that  long  description  will  bore  the  reader  fifty  years  hence?"  My  reply  was:  "The 
result  will  be  just  the  contrary.  Stuart  will  then  rank  with  Harry  of  Navarre  and 
Prince  Rupert."    Do  you  doubt  that,  reader  1 


84  SURRY    OF    E AGLE'S-NEST. 

I  ^.ltroduced  myself,  delivered  nay  message,  and  rode  on  with 
Stuart,  who  had  cordially  shaken  hands  and  said : 

"  Glad  to  make  your  acquaintance,  Captain.  Come,  and  ride 
back  to  camp  with  me." 

So  we  rode  on,  side  by  side,  Stuart  talking  carelessly,  with  the 
ease  and  unreserve  of  the  bon  comjiagnon,  instead  of  the  stiffness 
of  the  West-Pointer. 

"Jackson  is  right,'1  he  said,  musing,  with  an  absent  air ;  and 
as  he  spoke  he  took  off  his  cap,  made  a  salute,  apparently  to 
some  imaginary  personage,  and  then  replaced  hia  cap.  This 
curious  habit  I  frequently  observed  in  him  afterward. 

"The  enemy  will  cross  near  Williamsport,"  he  added;  "I 
am  convinced  of  that.  The  pickets  are  already  doubled,  Captain, 
and  the  relays  established.  I  intend  to  inspect  my  pickets  along 
the  whole  front  to-morrow.  Will  you  ride  with  me?  You  can 
then  make  an  exact  report  of  every  thing." 

I  accepted  this  invitation,  and  Stuart  then  seemed  to  banish 
all  "  official  "  affairs  from  his  mind.  lie  turned  his  head,  called 
out  "Sweeny!"  and  there  rode  forward  from  his  escort  a  tall, 
mild-looking  man,  of  deferential  bearing,  who  carried  under  his 
arm  an  old-fashioned  Virginia  banjo. 

"Come!  strike  up,  Sweeny,"  Stuart  exclaimed,  in  a  jovial 
voice.  "  Here  is  Captain  Surry — give  him  a  specimen  of  your 
music." 

Sweeny  saluted  me  with  sad  and  deferential  courtesy,  and  I 
expected  him  to  play  something  like  a  dead  march  upon  his  in- 
strument. Never  was  any  one  more  mistaken.  He  struck 
up  that  popular  song — "  O  Lord,  ladies !  don't  you  mind  Ste- 
phen!" and  if  ever  the  spirit  of  wild  and  uproarious  mirth 
spoke  from  any  instrument,  it  was  heard  in  the  notes  of  Sweeny's 
banjo.  After  finishing  this  gay  air,  with  its  burden,  "  Come 
back,  Stephen! — Stephen,  come  back!  "  he  played  a  medleyi 
with  wonderful  skill— a  comic  vis  that  was  irresistible ;  and  then 
Stuart,  lying  back  on  his  horse  for  laughter,  cried : 

"  Now  give  us  the  '  Old  Gray  Hoss,'  Sweeny  !" 

And  Sweeny  commenced  that  most  celebrated  of  recitations, 
which  I  heard  and  laughed  at  a  hundred  times  afterward,  but 


A    MOONLIGHT    RIDE    WITH    STUART.      85 

never  without  thinking  of  that  gay  spring  scene — the  long  line 
of  cavalry  winding  through  the  May  forest,  with  Stuart  at  their 
head,  shouting  with  laughter  as  he  rode,  and  joining  in  the 
chorus,  like  an  uproarious  hoy. 

Sweeny  played  then,  in  succession,  "  O  Johnny  Booker,  help 
this  nigger!"  "Sweet  Evelina,"  and  "Faded  Flowers" — for 
this  great  musician  could  pass  from  gay  to  sad,  and  charm  you 
more  with  his  sentimental  songs  than  he  amused  you  with  his 
comic  repertoire.  In  the  choruses  Stuart  joined — singing  in  a 
sonorous  voice,  with  a  perfectly  correct  ear — and  thus  the  caval- 
cade passed  over  mile  after  mile,  until,  at  sunset,  we  reached 
Stuart's  quarters,  near  Martinsburg.  That  individual  appeared 
to  me  more  like  some  gay  knight-errant  of  the  elder-time  than 
a  commonplace  cavalry  officer  of  the  year  18C1-,  and  I  never 
afterward,  through  all  his  arduous  career,  could  rid  myself  of 
this  idea.  I  saw  him  everywhere  during  his  long,  hard  work,  as 
commander  of  the  cavalry  of  General  Lee's  army,  and  as  that 
great  chief's  "right  hand  " — but  I  could  never  think  of  him  ex- 
cept as  an  ideal  personage.  He  was  not  so  much  a  soldier  of  the 
nineteenth  century  as  a  chevalier  "from  out  the  old  romances." 

Are  you  weary,  my  dear  reader,  of  this  long  description  ?  I 
should  be  sorry  to  think  so  ;  and  I  have  still  some  words  to  add. 
In  these  pages  Stuart  will  sjieak  often,  and  perform  many  things. 
Here  I  wish,  "once  for  all,"  to  give  you  his  outline.  Then 
you  will  know  what  manner  of  man  it  was  that  spoke  the 
words  and  struck  the  great  blows.  So  I  linger  still  in  those  old 
days,  spent  in  the  Shenandoah  Valley,  recalling  every  incident 
of  my  brief  visit  to  the  afterward  celebrated  "  Jeb.  Stuart." 


XXIII. 

A    MOONLIGHT    RIDE    WITH    STUART. 

Stuart's  head-quarters  consisted  of  a  single  canvas  "  fly  " — that 
is,  the  outer  covering  of  a  tent — stretched  over  a  horizontal  pole. 
One  end  of  this  pole  was  placed  in  the  crotch  of  a  large  oak ; 


86  SURRY    OF    E  AGLE'S-NEST, 

the  other  was  supported  by  uprights,  joined  at  top  and  tied 
together — there  was  the  tent.  A  desk,  a  chair,  a  mess-chest, 
and  bed  of  blankets  on  some  straw — there  was  the  rest.  Over- 
head drooped  the  boughs  of  the  oak ;  in  front  stretched  a  grassy 
meadow,  reaching  to  the  "Big  Spring;"  the  horses  were  pick- 
eted near,  and  a  small  flag  rippled  in  the  May  breeze.  In  a 
wood,  near  by,  was  the  camp  of  the  regiment. 

Stuart  called  to  his  body-servant,  a  young  mulatto,  to  know 
if  supper  was  ready,  and  then  directed  a  company  to  be  detailed, 
with  orders  to  report  to  him  at  once,  for  picket  duty. 

It  soon  appeared,  and  not  only  the  officer  in  command,  but 
every  squad,  received  the  most  explicit  instructions  from  him. 
If  before  I  regarded  Colonel  Stuart  as  a  somewhat  boyish  indi- 
vidual, I  had  now  good  reason  to  consider  him  an  excellent 
cavalry  officer.  His  directions  were  so  plain  and  concise  that  a 
child  could  understand  them — and  the  manner  of  the  speaker 
was  no  longer  gay  and  thoughtless.  It  was  grave,  almost  im- 
perious. I  can  best  describe  it  by  saying  that  it  was  the  manner 
of  a  man  who  intends  that  his  orders  shall  be  obeyed  to  the 
very  letter,  and  who  will  not  be  trifled  with. 

But  even  with  "  business  "  that  genius  of  mirth  which  seemed 
to  accompany  Stuart  everywhere  was  mixed  up.  He  was  in- 
structing, one  after  another,  the  sergeants  and  corporals  com- 
manding squads,  when  there  came  up,  in  his  turn,  a  huge, 
black-bearded  giant,  with  a  voice  like  the  rumble  of  distant 
thunder,  and  the  assured  air  of  an  old  acquaintance  of  the 
young  Colonel. 

"  This  is  Corporal  Hagan,  one  of  my  very  best  soldiers,  Cap- 
tain," said  Stuart. 

I  saluted  the  tall  corporal ;  and,  exclaiming  deferentially 
"Captain!"  Hagan  made  me  a  rigidly  military  salute  in  return 
— two  fingers  to  the  cap,  body  erect,  eyes  front. 

"Hagan,"  said  Stuart,  "you  must  make  your  squad  pay  par- 
ticular attention  to  what  I  have  explained." 

"  Yes,  Colonel,"  came  in  tones  of  low  thunder  from  the  heavy 
beard. 

"I  will  hold  you  responsible." 


A    MOONLIGHT    RIDE    WITH  STUART.      87 

"I  intend  to  be,  Colonel." 

"  You  are  an  old  soldier,  Hagan,  and  know  what  is  expected 
bf  a  good  picket." 

"I  think  I  do,  Colonel — to  keep  one  eye  skinned  for  snakes 
and  the  other  for  bees!" 

And  the  giant  looked  as  grave  as  if  he  had  never  smiled  in 
his  life. 

Stuart  uttered  a  laugh,  and  said ; 

"  "What  do  you  mean  by  that,  Hagan  ?" 

The  tall  corporal  assumed  an  air  of  the  deepest  solemnity, 
and,  advancing  a  step,  inclined  his  head  to  one  side,  and  put 
two  fingers  of  his  right  hand  in  the  palm  of  his  left,  with  the 
manner  of  a  man  about  to  explain  some  great  problem.  Then, 
with  unmoved  solemnity,  but  a  twinkle  of  the  eye  and  a  slight 
movement  of  the  mustache  which  indicated  lurking  fun,  Hagan 
thundered,  in  low  tones : 

"  Well,  you  see,  Colonel,  you  never  know  which  way  the 
inimy  will  come.  Maybe  out  of  the  ground,"  and  Hagan 
pointed  to  his  feet,  "maybe  down  through  the  air,"  and  the 
giant  pointed,  like  a  great  orator,  toward  the  sky.  "Now,  there's 
only  one  way  to  sarcumvent  'em,  Colonel.  You  must  keep  one 
eye  skinned  for  snakes — that  is,  down  on  the  ground ;  and  the 
other  skinned  for  bees — that  is,  up  in  the  air.  You  are  then 
bound  to  know  when  the  inimy  is  coming,  and  you  can  give  the 
alarm!" 

This  grave  explanation  Highly  tickled  Stuart,  who  slapped  the 
big  corporal  on  the  back  in  a  manner  which  evidently  delighted 
that  worthy.  Hagan  ordered  hie  squad  to  fall  in,  in  a  voice  of 
thunder,  made  his  former  salute  with  even  deeper  solemnity, 
and  then  commanding  "Forward!"  disappeared  like  a  moving 
mountain.* 

At  the  same  moment  the  neatly  dressed  mulatto  announced 
shipper,  which  was  served  on  the  lid  of  the  camp-chest,  under  the 
great  oak ;  it  was  altogether  a  gay  affair.     The  sunset  lit  up  the 


*  "  I  think  that  is  Hagan  to  the  very  life,  and  I  have  romomberod  all  his  expres- 
sions !"  laughed  Colonel  Surry,  as  he  read  me  this. 


88  SURRY    OF    EAG-LE'S-NEST. 

form  of  Stuart  splendidly,  and  he  exchanged  with  his  excellent 
adjutant,  Captain  Tiernan  Brien,  a  hundred  jests. 

"This  is  the  hest  beverage  in  the  world,  Captain,"  he  said, 
holding  up  his  silver  mug;  "only  give  me  coffee  and  candles, 
and  I  am  satisfied." 

"You  drink  nothing  else?" 

"  Only  water :  when  I  was  a  child  I  made  a  pledge  to  my 
mother  that  I  would  never  touch  liquor,  and  I  never  drank  a 
drop  in  my  life." 

"That  is  certainly  uncommon." 

"  Well,  an  officer  ought  to  do  his  duty  up  to  the  hilt ;  and  he 
can't  do  it  if  he  drinks."  * 

In  fifteen  minutes  Stuart  rose  and  said . 

"  I  am  going  on  a  little  excursion  this  evening,  Captain.  Will 
you  ride  with  me?" 

"At  your  orders,  Colonel — dispose  of  me." 

"Then,  to  horse!" 

And  calling  for  Sweeny  and  his  banjo,  Stuart  proceeded  to 
make  a  rapid  toilet.  His  heavy  boots  were  exchanged  for  a 
lighter  pair,  ornamented  with  golden  thread ;  around  his  waist 
he  tied  a  new  and  elegant  sash  over  his  sabre  belt ;  and  then 
issuing  forth — a  splendid  cavalier,  ready  for  a  raid,  a  charge,  or 
a  frolic — with  a  single  bound  he  was  in  the  saddle.  Sweeny  fol- 
lowed us  with  his  banjo.  I  put  spurs  to  my  horse,  and  we  set  off 
at  a  rapid  gallop  through  the  moonlight,  I  knew  not  whither. 

Stuart  rode  as  if  the  wild  huntsman  were  on  his  track,  and 
sang  as  he  went.  We  soon  left  the  high  road,  and,  striking  into 
the  forest,  fled  onward  beneath  the  moonlight  foliage,  my  com- 
panion paying  no  attention  to  obstacles,  and  more  than  once 
leaping  some  fallen  tree  which  obstructed  the  narrow  road. 

"•Give  me  a  gallop  by  moonlight!"  he  said,  with  his  gay 
laughter.  "Come,  captain,  boot  to  boot!  Your  horse  is  a  good 
one,  and  I  am  riding  'Skylark,'  who  never  gets  tired." 

The  gallop  became  a  run;  the  wood  was  passed;  we  followed 
a  road  skirting  the  Opequon-;  descended  an  abrupt  hill;  forded 

*  Theee  expressions  are  all  Stuart's,  .as  I  can  testify. 


A    MOONLIGHT    RIDE    WITH    STUART.      89 

the  stream  near  a  little  mill ;  and,  passing  through  a  gate  which 
led  into  some  beautiful  grounds  studded  with  old  century  oaks, 
the  finest  I  had  ever  seen,  ascended  a  hill,  and  stopped  before  a 
large  mansion,  on  the  portico  of  which  a  group  of  ladies  and 
gentlemen  were  sitting  in  the  moonlight. 

"It  is  Colonel  Stuart!"  was  the  exclamation  of  the  ladies; 
and  in  an  instant  the  young  officer  was  shaking  hands  with 
everybody ;  after  which  he  introduced  me  as  "  one  of  his  friends, 
young,  gallant,  and  not,  like  himself,  married." 

The  laughter  of  Stuart  was  contagious ;  I  was  received  like  an 
old  friend;  and  "Oh!  there's  Sweeny!"  having  indicated  the 
general  joy  at  the  advent  of  the  banjo,  a  dance  was  immediately 
proposed,  and  rapturously  assented  to  by  the  young  ladies — a 
portion  of  whom  had  come  that  afternoon,  on  a  visit,  from  a 
neighboring  village. 

I  have  never  spent  a  gayer  evening,  or  enjoyed  myself  more 
with  new  acquaintances.  The  piano  and  the  banjo  made  excellent 
music,  and  such  ardor  was  thrown  into  the  cotillons,  reels,  and 
other  dances,  that  the  very  portraits  on  the  walls,  of  old-time 
people  in  stiff  cravats  and  piled-up  curls,  seemed  to  look  on 
with  a  smile 

Then  commenced  Sweeny's  performances  —  his  songs,  his 
recitations,  and  the  wonderful  solos  on  his  magical  instrument. 
Quiet,  sad-looking,  with  a  retiring  and  repectful  demeanor  which 
would  have  done  no  discredit  to  the  finest  gentleman,  he  as- 
sented to  every  request,  without  idle  excuses;  and  soon  the 
whole  company,  but  more  especially  the  small  boys,  were  con- 
vulsed with  a  sort  of  ecstasy  of  enjoyment.  The  appreciation 
by  those  small  boys  of  "The  Old  Gray  Hoss,"  "Stephen,"  and 
the  song  commencing — 

"  If  you  get  there  before  I  do, 
Oh !  tell  'em  I'm  a-coming  too," 

was  immense,  unspeakable.  They  hung  around  the  great  musi- 
cian, watched  his  every  gesture,  and  evidently  regarded  him  as 
the  most  remarkable  personage  of  the  epoch. 

Having  wound  up  with  a  tumultuous,  deafening,  wonderful 


90  SURRY    OF    EAGLE'S-NEST. 

solo,  which  made  the  windows  shake,  Sweeny  bowed  and  put 
his  banjo  under  his  arm.  It  was  past  midnight,  and,  urging  his 
long  ride  on  the  morrow,  Stuart  rose  and  bade  our  kind  enter- 
tainers good-by. 

An  hour  afterward,  I  was  sleeping  by  Colonel  Stuart's  side 
under  his  canvas,  and  dreaming  that,  the  Southern  army  had 
advanced  to  attack  the  enemy,  led  by  Sweeny,  playing  his 
banjo ! 

I  assure  the  reader  that  faucy  has  nothing  to  do  with  these 
scenes.  The  picture  to  the  minutest  particulars  is  a  transcript 
from  life,  and  the  words  uttered  the  Colonel's  own. 


XXIY. 

JOHN    BROWN    AND    HIS   BULL-DOG. 

We  were  up  with  the  dawn,  and  before  sunrise  had  break- 
fasted and  were  on  the  way  to  visit  the  pickets. 

Passing  through  Martinsburg,  we  pushed  on  toward  the  Poto- 
mac, and,  ascending  the  river's  bank,  inspected  the  pickets  along 
the  entire  front,  returning  only  after  nightfall. 

This  ride  through  a  beautiful  country  was  delightful ;  and  Stu- 
art's gay  and  varied  conversation  made  the  hours  glide  away 
almost  unnoticed.  One  of  his  anecdotes — an  account  of  the  part 
he  had  taken  in  the  capture  of  John  Brown — will  be  here  re- 
corded. 

"I  was  in  Virginia  at  that  time  on  furlough,"  he  said,  "and, 
singularly  enough,  had  run  over  to  Washington,  when  the  news 
of  the  riot  at  Harper's  Ferry  came.  I  immediately  went  to  the 
War  Department  to  offer  my  services,  but  could  not  find  the 
Secretary.  Some  of  the  employes  of  the  Department  were  talk- 
ing, and  one  of  them  said,  '  I'm  going  straight  to  Virginia,  to  look 
after  my  wife  and  children,'  as  a  negro  insurrection  was  expected; 
but  I  thought  to  myself,  '  The  best  way  to  defend  my  wife  and 
children  is  to  go  to  Harper's  Ferry,'  and  I  hurried  to  the  White 
House,  where  I  found  General  Lee,  then  Colonel,  Secretary  Floyd, 


JOHN    BROWN    AND    HIS    BULL-DOG.      91 

and  President  Buchanan.  I  saw  the  General  for  a  moment,  and 
told  him  how  anxious  I  was  to  go,  but  he  said  he  did  not  know 
that  I  could.  The  President  then  called  him  and  said,  '  You  will 
take  command  of  the  marines,  Colonel,  and  proceed  at  once  to 
Harper's  Ferry — but  act  prudently,  Colonel.'  Lee  bowed,  and 
was  turning  away,  when  Floyd  came  after  him  to  the  door,  and 
said,  'Give  'em  hell,  Colonel!'  This  was  the  time  to  prefer  my 
request,  so  I  begged  the  Secretary  to  let  me  go,  and,  after  looking 
at  me  for  a  moment,  he  said,  '  Well,  go.'  I  hurried  off,  met  Col- 
onel Lee  at  the  cars,  and  we  were  soon  flying  along  toward 
Harper's  Ferry. 

"  When  we  arrived,  Brown  was  in  the  engine-house,  with  his 
band  and  the  prisoners  he  had  taken.  It  was  a  small  house  inside 
the  grounds  of  the  arsenal,  exactly  like  an  ordinary  fire-engine 
bouse  in  cities — with  large  folding  doors.  The  Virginia  troops 
had  been  deliberating  upon  the  best  means  of  assault,  but  upon 
Colonel  Lee's  arrival  he  assumed  command,  and  the  first  step 
which  he  took  was  to  send  me  forward  to  demand  a  surrender. 
I  accordingly  walked  into  the  enclosure,  and  approached  the 
engine-house,  waving  a  white  handkerchief,  and,  when  I  got  to 
the  door,  called  out  that  I  wished  to  speak  with  '  Captain  Smith.' 
I  forgot  to  say  that,  up  to  this  time,  Brown  had  passed  as  Captain 
Smith,  and  I  thus  addressed  him.  At  my  call,  he  came  and 
opened  one  fold  of  the  door  a  little  way.  Behind  it  was  a  heavy 
rope  stretched  across — better  security  than  a  bar,  as  it  would 
yield  if  a  battering  ram  of  any  sort  were  used,  but  not  give  way. 

"  Well,  the  old  fellow  appeared  at  the  opening  of  the  door,  with 
a  carbine  in  his  hand,  and  below  appeared  the  head  of  a  big  bull 
dog,  who  kept  snarling  at  my  knee  and  growling  angrily  during 
the  whole  conversation.  As  soon  as  I  saw  the  man,  I  knew  that 
I  had  met  with  him  before,  and  in  a  moment  I  remembered  him. 

"  '  You  are  Ossawatomie  Brown,  of  Kansas,  are  you  not?'  I  said. 

"  '  He  looked  at  me  keenly  for  a  minute  from  under  his  grizzly 
eyebrows,  and  then  said  coolly,  addressing  me  by  my  title : 

"  '  Well,  they  do  call  me  that,  sometimes,  Lieutenant.' 

"  'I  thought  I  remembered  meeting  you  in  Kansas,'  was  my 
reply.     '  This  is  a  bad  business  you  are  in,  Captain.     The  United 


92  SURRY    OF    EAGLE'S-NEST. 

States  troops  have  arrived,  and  I  am  sent  to  demand  your  sur- 
render.' 

"  '  Upon  what  terms  V  he  asked  coolly  ;  in  fact,  he  displayed  no 
sort  of  excitement  during  the  entire  interview. 

"  '  The  terms  are  that  you  shall  surrender  to  the  officer  com- 
manding the  troops,  and  he  will  protect  you  from  the  crowd,  and 
guarantee  you  a  fair  trial.' 

"  Brown  shook  his  head. 

"  'I  can't  surrender  on  such  terms,'  he  said.  '  You  must  allow 
me  to  leave  this  engine-house  with  my  comrades  and  the  pris- 
oners, and  march  across  the  river  to  the  Maryland  side :  there  I 
will  release  the  prisoners,  and,  as  soon  as  this  is  done,  your  troops 
may  fire  on  and  pursue  us.' 

"  I  replied  that  I  had  no  authority  to  agree  to  any  such  arrange- 
ment, and  was  ordered  to  demand  his  surrender  on  the  terms 
first  proposed. 

"  'Well,  Lieutenant,'  said  the  old  fellow,  '  I  see  we  can't  agree. 
You  have  the  numbers  on  me,  but  you  know  we  soldiers  are  not 
afraid  of  death.     I  would  as  lief  die  by  a  bullet  as  on  the  gallows.' 

"  'Is  that  your  final  answer,  Captain?'  I  asked. 

" '  Yes.' 

"  I  then  stepped  aside,  and  he  closed  the  door.  "When  I  re 
ported  the  result  to  Colonel  Lee,  he  ordered  the  marines  to  at- 
tack the  engine-house,  and  this  was  done  with  a  ladder  which 
was  used  as  a  battering  ram.  As  they  approached,  Brown  and 
his  men  opened  fire  from  the  air-holes  in  the  wall,  and  killed  one 
or  two  of  the  men ;  but  the  door  soon  yielded,  and  after  a  short 
struggle  the  whole  party  were  captured." 

Such  was  the  narrative  related  to  me  by  Colonel  Stuart,  and 
finished  just  as  we  reached  head-quarters.* 

*  ThiB  is  given  nearly  in  General  Stuart's  word*. 


THE    RAID    OF    THE    BEE-GUM.  93 

XXV. 

THE    RAID    OF    THE    BEE-GUM. 

I  "was  about  to  set  out  on  my  return,  on  the  following  morning, 
when  an  amusing  scene,  interrupted  by  a  rather  comic  incident, 
delayed  my  journey. 

The  men  of  the  regiment  had  discovered  a  bee-gum,  in  the 
vicinity  of  the  Big  Spring — that  is  to  say,  a  hollow  tree  in  which 
a  swarm  of  bees  had  taken  up  their  abode,  and  stored  away  the 
rich  proceeds  of  their  raids  among  the  flowers.  The  hollow  tree 
thus  contained  a  huge  mass  of  honeycomb,  and  it  was  not  long 
before  it  crashed  down  before  the  quick  blows  of  the  men's  axes, 
and  was  split  open. 

The  scene  which  followed  was  ludicrous.  The  jovial  troopers 
crowded  round  the  bee-gum,  and,  scooping  out  the  rich  contents 
with  their  hands,  eagerly  devoured  them,  smearing  their  faces 
with  the  honey,  and  laughing  like  a  party  of  schoolboys  let 
loose  on  a  holiday. 

The  noise  and  confusion  were  at  their  height,  the  ''  general  joy  " 
unbounded,  and  the  shaggy  beards  and  mustaches  of  the  cavalry 
men,  to  say  nothing  of  their  hands,  were  clogged  with  the 
liquid  honey,  when  suddenly  a  horseman  appeared  on  the  brow 
of  the  neighboring  hill,  approaching  at  a  furious  gallop. 

All  heads  were  raised — all  tongues  hushed.  On  came  the 
horseman,  making  violent  gestures,  and,  as  he  came  within  hear- 
ing, the  honey  devourers  distinguished  above  the  clatter  of  his 
horse's  hoofs  the  exciting  words,  "  Look  out !  The  Yankees  are 
coining !" 

In  a  moment  all  was  confusion  worse  confounded.  The  men 
abandoned  their  bee-gum,  dropped  their  honeycomb,  and  ran  to 
their  horses;  but,  as  no  attack  was  expected,  all  were  unsaddled, 
and  they  were  compelled  to  seize  the  equipments  with  their 
honey-covered  hands,  and  saddle  up  in  hot  haste,  without  re- 
moving  the  yellow  liquid  from  their  faces.  The  quick  notes  of 
the  bugle  sounded  "  to  horse!"  and  in  a  moment  the  regiment 


94  SURRY    OF    EAGLE'S-NEST. 

was  drawn  up  in  line,  with  Stuart  in  front  of  them.  A  mora 
ludicrous  spectacle  I  never  witnessed.  Every  man's  face  resenv 
hied  a  yellow  mask,  every  mustache  dripped,  every  beard  disap- 
peared in  masses  of  honeycomb. 

Stuart  burst  into  uncontrollable  laughter,  and  when  the  officer, 
whom  he  had  hastily  ordered  to  gallop  forward  and  ascertain  the 
truth  of  the  reported  advance,  returned  and  announced  that  it 
was  a  false  alarm,  the  young  cavalier  leaned  back  in  his  saddle, 
and  there  issued  from  beneath  his  heavy  mustache  a  "  guffaw  " 
which  made  the  air  ring. 

The  men  were  ordered  to  unsaddle  their  horses,  and  were  soon 
securing  the  remainder  of  the  honey,  but  all  the  life  and  spirit 
were  gone.  The  laugh  was  turned  on  them,  and  they  soon  dis- 
appeared in  the  direction  of  their  quarters. 

I  never  heard  an  explanation  of  the  alarm.  Whether  it  was 
brought  by  some  excited  picket  who  took  "  trees  moving  "  for 
Yankees,  or  was  a  practical  joke  gotten  up  by  some  wag  of  the 
command,  T  never  learned.  It  is  certain  that  Stuart  enjoyed  it 
too  much  to  make  very  rigid  inquiry,  and  I  never  before  saw 
such  intense  relish  for  a  practical  joke  displayed  by  any  human 
being.  He  often  mentioned  this  incident  to  me  afterward,  styl- 
ing it  "The  Raid  of  the  Bee-gum,"  and  never  without  laughter.* 

I  soon  afterward  took  leave  of  my  gay  host,  and  set  out  on  my 
return,  promising  to  visit  him  again  whenever  I  could  do  so.  I 
made  my  report  to  Colonel  Jackson,  and  when  he  asked  me  how 
I  liked  Stuart,  I  declared  myself  delighted  with  him. 

Jackson  smiled  at  my  enthusiasm. 

"Yes,"  he  said,  "Stuart  is  an  excellent  companion.  He  is 
more  :  he  is  a  remarkable  man." 

*  An  actual  occurrence. 


FIRST    SIGHT    OF    THE    BLUE-COATS.     95 

XXYI. 

MY  FIRST  SIGHT  OF  THE  BLUE-COATS. 

In  the  latter  part  of  May  additional  troops  reached  Harper's 
Ferry,  and  General  Joseph  E.  Johnston  arrived,  and  assumed 
command. 

This  soldier,  since  so  eminent,  was  a  man  of  about  sixty,  with 
gray  hair,  piercing  eyes,  and  the  stiff  carriage  of  the  "West- 
Pointer.  His  manner  was  phlegmatic,  his  voice  grave  and  for- 
mal, and  he  wore  his  uniform  with  the  air  of  a  man  horn  in  it. 

Johnston  vigorously  continued  the  organization  which  Jackson 
had  commenced.  The  latter  had  been  assigned  to  the  command 
of  a  brigade  raised  in  the  Valley.  They  were  entirely  Virginia 
troops ;  but  the  Georgians  and  South  Carolinians,  under  the 
brave  General  Bee,  were  now  mingled  with  them  in  the  little 
army.  All  was  life,  bustle,  and  activity :  the  news  came  from 
Bethel  about  this  time,  and  cheer  after  cheer  indicated  the  en- 
thusiasm of  the  troops. 

Then  the  words  passed  from  lip  to  lip  in  the  small  army, 
"Patterson  is  advancing!"  This  intelligence  was  soon  con- 
firmed, and  Johnston  promptly  broke  up  his  camp  to  go  and 
meet  him.  The  surplus  stores  were  burned,  the  arsenal  de- 
stroyed, and,  setting  fire  to  the  fine  railroad  bridge  over  the  Poto- 
mac, the  Confederate  commander  fell  back  toward  Charlestown. 
The  spectacle,  as  I  gazed  upon  it  from  a  hill,  was  superb.  The 
flames  were  roaring  and  crackling,  the  long  bridge  a  sheet  of 
fire,  and  the  walls  of  the  arsenal  fell  in  one  after  another.  On 
the  right  and  in  front,  Loudoun  and  Maryland  Heights,  with 
their  huge  rocks  and  shaggy  evergreens,  were  illuminated  by  the 
glare  of  the  waving  flames.  The  Shenandoah  glowed  in  the 
light  of  the  great  conflagration;  the  Potomac  was  completely 
hidden  by  the  lurid  smoke,  and  through  this  murky  cloud  one  of 
the  hottest  suns  I  ever  experienced  plunged  its  burning  rays.  It 
was  the  first  time  I  had  realized  the  full  meaning  of  the  word 
War. 

The  column  fell  back  through  Charlestown,  where  crowds  of 


96  SURRY    OF    EAGLE'S-NEST. 

beautiful  girls  filled  the  streets,  waving  their  white  handkerchiefs. 
Bivouacking  in  the  woods  just  beyond  the  town,  on  the  next  day 
we  moved  by  the  right  flank  through  country  roads,  and  emerged 
upon  the  Winchester  and  Martinsburg  turnpike. 

Here  the  army  faced  Patterson,  advancing  toward  "Williams- 
port,  and  soon  it  was  announced  that  his  column  had  reached 
the  river. 

Jackson  had  been  sent  with  his  brigade  to  support  Stuart,  in 
advance  of  Martinsburg,  and  one  morning,  at  daylight,  we 
received  intelligence  that  Patterson  was  over,  with  a  large  army. 

When  this  dispatch  reached  Jackson  his  face  actually  glowed. 
Hitherto  I  had  looked  upon  him  as  almost  a  non-combatant,  but 
from  that  moment  I  knew  that  he  loved  fighting  for  its  own  sake. 
The  gaudium  certaminis  flamed  in  his  regard.  The  grave  and 
serious  Presbyterian  was  almost  gay. 

A  reply  was  sent  to  Stuart's  dispatch,  but,  remembering  soon 
afterward  an  important  point  which  he  had  omitted,  Jackson 
sent  me  to  find  Stuart  and  give  him  the  message. 

I  set  out  at  once,  and  passed  Falling  Waters  before  I  could 
hear  any  tbing  of  him.  I  soon  encountered,  however,  a  detach- 
ment of  cavalry  falling  back  before  the  enemy,  whose  dark 
masses — infantry,  cavalry,  and  artillery — were  plainly  seen  in 
front,  and  from  the  officer  in  command  learned  that  Stuart  was 
moving  with  his  main  body  on  the  right  flank  of  the  Federal 
column. 

Taking  a  bridle  path  which  led  in  the  direction  indicated,  I 
soon  found  him  with  a  squadron,  dogging  the  enemy's  move- 
ments, and  gave  him  my  message.. 

"  Thank  you,  Captain,"  he  said,  his  eyes  glowing  with  ardor ;  "  1 
will  do  as  Colonel  Jackson  wishes.  Remain  with  me  a  short 
while ;  I  wish  to  send  a  message  by  you.  Look  at  that  column ! 
Their  force  must  be  at  least  two  divisions." 

And,  leaving  his  command,  Stuart  galloped  straight  toward  the 
Federal  column.  We  approached  so  close  that  their  words  were 
distinctly  audible,  and  I  was  endeavoring,  as  far  as  possible,  to 
ascertain  their  force,  when  Stuart  suddenly  pointed  to  a  field  in 
our  immediate  front.     I  followed  the  direction  of  his  finger,  and 


FIRST    SIGHT    OF    THE    BLUE-COATS.      97 

saw  a  company  of  infantry  flankers,  who  had  advanced  ahead  of 
the  column,  and  were  lying  down  resting  until  it  came  up. 

"  I  am  going  to  capture  that  party,  and  I  wish  you  to  help  me. 
Do  you  see  that  clump  of  trees  yonder?  Bring  my  squadron 
round  through  them — bring  it  like  lightning,*  Surry!" 

1  instantly  obeyed  the  order,  and  moved  the  squadron  at  a  rapid 
trot  by  the  route  indicated.  Then  instructing  the  commanding 
ofticer  where  to  bring  it,  I  pushed  ahead,  and  rejoined  Stuart 
just  as  he  galloped  up  to  the  fence  behind  which  the  infantry 
flankers  were  lying. 

There  was  a  pair  of  bars  in  the  fence,  and  Stuart  rode  straight 
up  to  them,  commanding  one  of  the  Federal  soldiers  to  "take 
down  those  bars!" 

His  blue  undress  coat  doubtless  deceived  the  man,  though  this 
was  certainly  no  part  of  his  design.  The  infantry-man  touched 
his  hat  respectfully,  hastened  to  remove  the  obstacle,  and  then, 
again  making  the  military  salute,  stood  erect,  awaiting  further 
orders. 

Stuart  passed  through  the  gap  with  one  bound  of  his  horse, 
and  thundered : 

"Throw  down  your  arms,  or  you  are  dead!" 

At  the  same  moment  his  squadron  was  seen  approaching  at  a 
gallop,  and  the  whole  company — forty-four,  if  I  remember 
rightly,  in  number — not  only  threw  down  their  arms,  but  fell 
prone  upon  their  faces.t 

In  ten  minutes  Stuart  had  hastened  away  with  his  prisoners, 
and  I  speedily  rejoined  Colonel  Jackson. 

The  engagement  at  Falling  Waters  followed. 

This  brief  but  spirited  affair  need  not  be  here  described,  though 
its  issue  had  an  undoubted  effect  upon  the  morale  of  the  troops 
— discouraging  the  enemy,  and  inspiring  the  Confederates  with 
confidence. 

Jackson  met  the  advancing  column  with  the  Fifth  Virginia 
Infantry,    and    one   gun   of  Captain   Pendleton's  battery,  and, 

♦This  was  Stuart's  favorite  expression  in  any  emergency. 

t  General  Stuart  mentioned  this  incident  to  me  more  than  once,  and  seemed  greatly 
amused  by  it. 
5 


98  SURRY    OF    EAGLE'S-NEST. 

deploying  his  three  hundred  and  eighty  men — the  exact  number—, 
held  his  ground  for  some  time  with  great  stubbornness. 

His  thin  line  was,  however,  forced  to  fall  back  to  avoid  a  flanx 
attack ;  and,  as  a  column  of  Federal  cavalry  advanced  to  charge 
it,  the  artillery  was  used  for  the  first  time  in  the  action. 

Captain  Pendleton,  who  had  been  an  Episcopal  preacher,  gave 
the  characteristic  order,  "Aim  low,  men,  and  may  the  Lord  have 
mercy  on  their  souls!"* — the  piece  was  discharged — and  thesho'F 
struck  tbe  head  of  the  cavalry  column,  which  recoiled  ana 
retreated  behind  the  infantry  again. 

The  Federal  artillery  immediately  opened  in  reply,  and  for  the 
first  time  I  witnessed  in  Jackson  that  perfect  coolness  for  which 
he  was  afterward  so  celebrated.  While  he  was  seated  beneath 
a  tree,  writing  a  dispatch  to  General  Johnston,  a  round  shot 
tore  the  trunk  above  him  to  atoms,  and  covered  him  with  splin- 
ters. He  did  not  move  a  muscle,  but  finished  his  note  with 
entire  coolness — it  was  hard,  indeed,  to  realize  that  he  had 
observed  the  incident. 

He  continued  steadily  falling  back,  and,  rejoining  his  main 
body,  retreated  through  Martinsburg,  which  the  enemy  pressed 
on  and  occupied. 

That  night,  the  brigade  bivouacked  at  "Big  Spring,"  about 
two  miles  from  the  town,  on  the  road  to  Winchester ;  and  an 
odd  incident  marked  the  occasion. 

About  midnight,  the  weary  troops  were  disturbed  in  their 
slumbers  by  a  dusky  figure  which  moved  among  them,  stumbling 
over  the  sleepers.  Many  an  imprecation  greeted  this  unceremo- 
nious personage ;  but,  when  the  men  afterward  ascertained  who 
the  intruder  was,  their  anger  gave  way  to  laughter  and  admira- 
tion. 

The  figure  was  Jackson's,  and  his  errand  was  simple.  General 
Patterson  had  captured  some  of  his  tents,  made  by  the  young 
ladies  of  Jefferson ;  and  when  he  stumbled  over  the  sleepers, 
Jackson  was  looking  for  Colonel  Allen,  of  the  Second  Virginia, 
to  order  out  his  regiment,  attack  Patterson,  and  recapture  th® 
tents. 

*  His  words. 


THE    ENCHANTMENTS    OF   BOGY!        99 

What  induced  him  to  abandon  this  scheme  I  do  not  know  ;  but 
it  was  a  characteristic  idea — to  attack  two  divisions  with  a  single 
regiment  !* 

Falling  back  still  farther  to  the  little  village  of  Darkesville, 
Jackson  drew  up  his  brigade,  and  determined  to  retreat  no  far- 
ther. 

"  Here  I  am  ready  for  Patterson,  whenever  he  comes,"  he  said. 
"  I  want  my  brigade  to  feel  that  they  can  whip  his  whole  army; 
and  I  believe  they  can  do  it!"* 

Johnston  had  moved  forward  from  "Winchester  to  Bunker's  Hill. 
about  midway  between  that  place  and  Martinsburg ;  but  General 
Patterson  did  not  advance. 

Events  were,  however,  hastening  on — the  great  struggle  about 
to  begin. 


XXYII. 

THE   ENCHANTMENTS   OP  BOGY  I 

One  morning  I  went  to  see  Stuart,  who  held  the  front  with 
his  cavalry  toward  Martinsburg,  and  found  him  lying,  as  usual, 
on  his  red  blanket,  under  a  tree,  waiting  for  the  enemy. 

He  was  listening  to  a  report  from  our  friend  Corporal  Hagan, 
who,  with  a  beard  longer,  mustache  shaggier,  and  a  voice  more 
closely  resembling  thunder  than  before,  gave  the  particulars  of 
the  capture  of  two  or  three  prisoners  he  had  just  brought  in. 

"We  charged  'em,  Colonel,"  continued  Hagan,  after  bestowing 
upon  me  a  punctilious  salute,  "  and  they  run  like  the  very  old 
devil  was  after  'em.  I  come  up  with  this  young  man  here," 
pointing  to  one  of  the  blue-coats,  "  and  I  jest  grabbed  hold  of 
him  by  the  nape  of  his  neck,  and  says  I,  '  Young  man,  the  Judg- 
ment-Day is  come,  and  you  are  unprepar'd.'  He  give  right  up, 
without  making  any  row  ;  and  I  really  do  believe,  Colonel,  he 
thought  I  was  the  old  devil  himself— ha !  ha!" 

*  Historical. 


100  SURRY    OP    EAGLE'S-NEST. 

When  Hagan  laughed,  the  ground  seemed  to  shake.  His  mer- 
riment was  Olympian,  and  partook  of  the  earthquake. 

"  I  got  his  weep-on,  Colonel,"  continued  the  giant,  exhibiting 
u  fine  carbine,  "  and  I  thought,  as  I  had  the  dead  wood  on  him,  I 
would  go  through  him,  and  take  his  boots.  But  then  I  remem- 
bered that  that  was  ag'inst  your  orders.  Ain't  that  the  truth  ? 
Speak  to  the  Colonel !"  thundered  Hagan,  and  he  scowled  in  a 
truly  terrific  manner  at  the  prisoner. 

The  unfortunate  individual  confirmed  every  particular  ;  and  then 
commanding  "About  face!"  Hagan  marched  off  his  prisoners, 
grave  and  solemn  to  the  last. 

"  Hurrah  for  Hagan !     He  is  a  character,"  I  said,  laughing. 

"  True,"  said  Stuart ;  "  and,  if  you  will  ride  with  me  to-day,  I 
will  make  you  acquainted  with  another." 

"Who  is  that?" 

"  My  dear  Surry,  a  good  soldier  never  asks  any  questions — 
come !  I'll  show  you  a  real  curiosity,  and  give  you  an  excellent 
dinner.     Do  you  accept?" 

"  Do  I  accept! — when  I  have  been  living  on  hard  bread  for  a 
whole  week !" 

"  Agreed,  then.     But  who  is  that  yonder  ?" 

"General  Johnston  and  Colonel  Jackson." 

Stuart  rose  and  went  to  meet  them,  receiving  and  returning 
the  salute  of  the  two  officers. 

"  So  we  have  nearly  caught  the  indefatigable  Stuart  *  nap- 
ping!" 

Such  was  General  Johnston's  greeting,  as  he  shook  hands  with 
the  commander  of  his  cavalry. 

"  Not  quite,  General ;  but  I  was  not  expecting  an  advance  on 
my  rear." 

"  Well,  Colonel,  we  are  going  to  the  front.  Will  you  ride 
with  us  ?" 

Stuart  replied  by  getting  into  the  saddle,  and  the  whole  party 
set  forward  for  the  front.  A  complete  reconnoissance  was  made, 
the  ground  thoroughly  examined,  and  then,  as  the  sun  began  to 

*  Soe  Johnston's  report  of  operations  in  the  Valley. 


THE    ENCHANTMENTS    OF    BOGY!       101 

decline,  the  heads   of   the    horses   were   turned   again   toward 
Darkesville. 

I  began  now  to  think  of  that  famous  dinner  which  had  been 
promised  me,  greatly  fearing  that  the  visit  of  the  two  command- 
ers would  interfere  with  it.  Stuart  solved  this  interesting  prob- 
lem, however,  in  the  most  agreeable  manner.  He  invited  them 
to  accompany  him,  highly  extolling  the  cuisine  and  the  hospitality 
of  his  friend — and  they  accepted.  Generals  are  just  like  the  rest 
of  us,  my  dear  reader:  they  get  hungry.  So  we  set  out  for  the 
head-quarters  of  the  "  real  curiosity." 

His  name,  I  soon  heard,  was  Captain  Bogy  ;  and  we  found  the 
wortby  intrenched  beside  a  limpid  spring,  in  a  glade  of  the 
woods.  Horses  were  picketed  near,  for  Captain  Bogy  was  a  cav- 
alry-man. The  canvas  cover  of  a  wagon  was  visible  through  the 
bushes ;  not  far  off,  a  sable  individual  was  seen  busily  cooking ; 
and  in  the  foreground,  beneath  a  mighty  tree,  some  planks, 
stretched  across  saplings,  which  rested  in  turn  on  forks  driven 
into  the  ground,  formed  a  rustic  table. 

Such  were  the  preparations  for  the  entertainment ;  but  how 
shall  I  describe  the  host  ?  Imagine  Falstaff  in  au  old  cavalry  uni- 
form, his  mighty  paunch  encircled  by  a  sword-belt  balf  buried 
from  sight ;  his  legs  cased  in  enormous  horseman's  boots,  with 
spurs  of  fabulous  proportions,  which  jingled  as  he  moved.  Tbe 
Captain  appeared  only  about  forty -five,  but  his  hair  was  grizzled 
and  his  mustache  gray.  A  lurking  smile  seemed  ever  upon  his 
features ;  and  it  was  plain  that  the  worthy  loved  the  good  things 
and  the  good  jokes  of  life  better  th$n  all  the  glories  of  arms. 

Bogy  greeted  his  guests  with  the  ease  of  an  old  soldier,  declar- 
ing himself  much  honored  by  their  visit ;  and  then,  as  though  in 
matters  so  serious  as  eating  and  drinking  there  was  no  time  to 
spend  in  idle  talk  or  ceremony,  he  applied  himself  assiduously  to 
the  great  work  before  him. 

His  whole  soul  was  evidently  in  the  matter  of  dinner,  and  he 
had  secured  an  able  staff-officer  in  the  person  of  the  old  negro, 
who  presided  at  the  fire  with  an  air  as  grave  and  serious  as  his 
master's.  From  that  fire  came  the  soothing  music  of  frying  meat 
and  a  savory  odor  invaded  the  nostrils  of  the  guests. 


102  SURRY   OF  EAGLE'S-NEST. 

Soon  the  golden  moment  came  when  all  was  done  to  a  turn  ; 
and  then,  directed  by  Bogy,  who  was  solemn  and  preoccupied, 
the  dilapidated  African  staff-officer  made  his  appearance  with  a 
pile  of  plates.  My  attention  was  attracted  hy  them.  They  were 
china,  snow-white,  and  richly  gilt! 

Had  Bogy,  then,  discarded  the  military  tin-platter,  and  did  he 
revel  habitually  in  this  gorgeous  service  ?  The  idea  was  incredi- 
ble— but  there  they  were ! 

Tbe  white  plates  were  succeeded  by  shining  knives  with  ivory 
handles,  and  then  every  eye  stared — Bogy  had  silver  forks ! 

Gilt  plates  and  silver  forks! ! ! 

Bogy  was  modest,  unassuming;  he  would  not  observe  the  gen- 
eral wonder  and  admiration.  He  made  some  innocent  jests  ;  he 
coughed  slightly,  and  disappeared  in  the  direction  of  the  wagon. 

What  does  Bogy  return  with  ?  Is  it  not  a  brace  of  bottles  ? 
It  is  a  brace  of  bottles,  with  rich  labels  and  green  seals.  Bogy 
sets  them  on  the  table — all  eyes  admire ! 

His  aid  brings  him  mint  and  ice  from  the  spring — a  glass  dish 
of  white  sugar  from  the  wonderful  wagon;  and  then  behold!  a 
long  row  of  rich  cut-glass  goblets !  The  guests  cease  to  wonder 
farther ;  they  gaze  in  silence  at  the  great  magician. 

He  responds  to  that  look  by  another,  serene  and  smiling.  He 
6eems  to  say,  "  Have  confidence  in  your  host,  my  friends ;  he  is 
equal  to  the  present  great  occasion!" 

Bogy  draws  a  cork — a  rich  bouquet  of  Otard  brandy,  old  and 
mellow,  is  inhaled.  Some  young  officers  who  have  joined  the 
company  look  faint.  That  odor  overcomes  their  sensitive  nerves. 
Old  Otard  on  the  outpost ! 

"With  the  hand  of  the  master,  Bogy  mixes  his  liquids,  and  be- 
hold, a  long  row  of  cut-glass  goblets  full  of  julep,  from  whose 
Alpine  heights  of  ice  springs  the  fragrant  mint !  As  the  contents 
of  those  bright  goblets  disappear  down  the  throats  of  the  guests, 
their  eyes  close,  and  Bogy  towers  before  them,  the  greatest  of 
mortals. 

This  is  the  preface  only,  however.  Bogy  now  opens  the  vol- 
ume. Dinner  is  ready,  and  is  placed  upon  the  board.  At  the 
head  is  a  Virginia  ham,  which  Lucullus  might  envy  ;  at  the  foot 


THE    ENCHANTMENTS    OF  BOGY!      103 

a  saddle  of  mutton ;  at  the  sides,  chickens,  cutlets,  and  steaks, 
interspersed  with  all  the  esculents  of  the  season  ! 

By  the  side  of  each  plate  the  sable  aid  places  three  wine- 
glasses, and  these  are  filled  with  Khine  wine,  Champagne,  and 
Madeira ! ! ! 

The  guests  take  their  seats — they  proceed  from  enchantment 
to  enchantment.  The  entrees  are  followed  by  ice-cream  in  a 
silver  holder !  Almonds,  raisins,  English  walnuts,  olives,  and 
Havana  cigars ! !  Coffee  with  condensed  cream,  served  in  small 
gilt  cups,  with  spoons  of  solid  silver ! !  I 

No  allusion,!  are  made ;  we  are  too  well  bred.  Bogy  enjoys 
his  triumph  without  interruption.  He  is  the  model  of  a  host. 
He  gently  urges  his  guests  to  renewed  attacks  on  the  viands. 
Under  his  urging  they  perform  wonders. 

Nor  does  the  great  master  allow  the  conversation  to  flag.  He 
keeps  the  ball  in  motion,  and  his  anecdotes  are  so  pithy  and  so 
richly  humorous  that  every  face  relaxes  into  a  smile. 

Stuart  stimulates  and  seconds  him,  laughing  loudly  as  the  en- 
tertainment proceeds.  At  last  it  draws  to  a  conclusion,  and 
Stuart  raises  his  coffee-cup. 

"I  wish  to  offer  a  toast!"  says  the  gay  cavalier. 

Captain  Bogy  looks  gratified,  modest — he  smiles  sweetly.  It 
is  Falstaff  just  after  dinner. 

"To  the  health  of  your  friend,  who  has  sent  you  'a  small 
box,'  Bogy !  The  present  company  honors  him,  and  long  may 
he  wave!" 

Bogy  bows  his  head  with  the  air  of  a  girl  who  is  overcome 
and  blushing  at  a  declaration. 

"  I  will  write  to  him  and  tell  him  of  your  good  wishes,  Colo- 
nel.    He  will  then  immediately  send  me  another/' 

"  In  which  case  everybody  will  be  happy  to  dine  again  with 
you,"  said  Stuart.     "  But  you  have  omitted  one  thing." 

"What  is  that,  Colonel?"  exclaimed  Bogy,  with  a  sudden  look 
of  anxiety. 

"To  tell  us  the  name  of  your  friend." 

"His  name,  Colonel?" 

"Yea." 


104  SURRY  OF  EAGLE'S-NEST. 

"  Hum  !     1  really  have  forgotten  it"- 

"  Then  perhaps  I  can  assist  you." 

"You!  Colonel?" 

"  Shall  I  try  ?" 

Bogy  smiled.     That  smile  was  evidently  a  challenge. 

"  Well,  here  goes  for  a  guess,  Bogy,"  said  Stuart,  laughing. 
"  Your  friend's  name  is  Patterson — is  it  not  ?     Don't  deny  it !" 

And  he  pointed,  with  a  loud  laugh,  to  the  wagon  in  the  hushes. 
Upon  the  side  of  the  vehicle  all  now  saw  a  large  "  U.  S." 

Bogy's  head  slowly  drooped ;  he  swallowed  a  glass  of  wine. 
Then  rising  to  his  feet,  he  spoke  as  follows : 

"  It  is  impossible,  Colonel,  to  hide  any  thing  from  your  knowl- 
edge, and  from  this  moment  Bogy  don't  mean  ever  to  attempt 
it.  That  individual  now  throws  himself  upon  the  mercy  of  the 
court,  and  confesses  that  he  really  has  received  all  these  good 
things  from  the  individual  whose  honored  name  has  just  been 
pronounced  by  my  friend  upon  the  right.  That  wagon  was  cap- 
tured in  a  little  raid  last  night,  and  its  contents  were  soon  found 
to  be  varied  and  extensive.  What  could  Bogy  do,  gentlemen  ? 
What  better  use  could  he  put  those  contents  to  than  to  feast  his 
commander  and  his  friends  ?  That  is  his  plea  in  bar  of  sentence — 
and  he  appeals  to  the  quality  of  his  brandy  in  justification! 
What  head-quarters  has  he  rifled  and  made  desolate  by  this  cap- 
ture? who  can  tell? — perhaps  the  mess  of  General  Patterson 
himself!  We  have  appreciated,  however,  his  selection  of  wines, 
and  his  coffee  and  cigars  have  been  favorably  criticised.  I  would 
have  wished  that  his  Madeira  had  been  a  little  older;  that  his 
cayenne  pepper  had  been  stronger;  the  pair  of  boots  that  I 
found  in  the  wagon,  about  four  sizes  larger.  But  the  great  mis- 
take in  life  is  being  too  fastidious.  It  is  the  place  of  a  soldier  to 
put  up  with  inconveniences,  to  make  the  best  of  his  lot,  and  to 
suppress  all  discontent.  With  these  few  remarks,  Colonel,  unac- 
customed as  I  am  to  public  speaking,  I  beg  leave  to  conclude  by 
offering  this  honorable  company  : 

"The  good  health  of  our  friend  over  the  way,  who  is  dining 
out  to-day !  and  may  he  soon  send  another  little  present  to  his 
comrades!" 


THE    ENCHANTMENTS    OF    BOGY!      105 

"  He  was  cursing  you  awfully  when  I  left  him,  Captain." 

All  started  as  these  words  resounded  behind  us ;  and  every 
eye  was  turned  in  the  direction  of  the  sound. 

There  stood  a  gay  youngster  of  about  eighteen  or  nineteen, 
tall,  handsome,  and  elegantly  dressed.  The  features  of  the  youth 
were  lit  up  by  a  smile,  and  he  sustained  the  looks  levelled  at  him 
with  a  species  of  joyous  pride  and  insouciance. 

"Why,  where  did  you  come  from,  my  young  friend?"  ex- 
claimed Bogy  ;   "  you  appear  to  have  started  from  the  earth!" 

"I  came  through  the  lines,  Captain,"  was  the  reply  of  the  gay 
young  man,  as  he  saluted  with  a  movement  full  of  graceful  free- 
dom. "  I  am  from  Maryland,  and  yesterday  I  was  at  the  head- 
quarters of  a  Major  Somebody  in  the  Yankee  army.  He  was 
cursing  and  swearing  at  the  loss  of  his  wagon,  and  I  rather 
think,  Captain,  that  you  have  fallen  heir  to  it ! " 

There  was  so  much  gay  courtesy  in  the  air  of  the  young 
man,  and  his  face  was  illuminated  by  a  smile  so  bright  and  glad, 
that  I  could  not  help  admiring  him. 

In  reply  to  our  questions,  he  briefly  explained  that  he  had 
come  over  to  join  the  Southern  army.  His  name  "was  Harry 
Saltoun ;  he  had  many  Maryland  friends  in  Stuart's  Cavalry. 
Among  others,  Captain  Brien,  who  could  vouch  for  his  loyalty. 

"Will  you  have  me,  Colonel?"  he  asked,  turning  to  Stuart; 
"  I  would  rather  light  under  you  as  a  private  than  have  a  com- 
mission!" 

I  saw  from  Stuart's  smile  that  the  words  had  won  his  heart. 

"All  right!"  was  his  gay  reply,  as  he  made  room  for  the 
young  man  by  him.  "That's  the  way  I  like  a  soldier  to 
talk!" 

The  guests  soon  rose,  and  Bogy  made  a  last  address.  I  shall 
not  attempt  to  record  it :  what  great  orator  was  ever  correctly 
reported  ?  Imagine  Falstaff,  my  dear  reader,  doing  the  honors 
of  his  own  table,  and  you  will  have  formed  some  idea  of  the  re- 
marks of  the  great  Bogy ! 

When  we  left  him,  I  think  it  was  the  opinion  of  everybody 
that  his  equal,  as  a  host,  was  not  to  be  found  in  the  whole  uni- 
verse. 

*5 


106  SURRY    OF    EAGLE'S-NEST. 

So  we  returned  to  Big  Spring,  and  thence  I  rode  back  with 
"'ackson. 
The  young  Marylander  had  remained  with  Stuart. 


XXYIII. 

THE    COUNCIL    OF    WAR. 

On  the  next  day,  a  council  of  war  assembled  at  General 
Johnston's  head-quarters,  near  Bunker's  Hill. 

An  advance  of  the  enemy  was  expected  at  any  moment.  Every 
thing  made  such  a  movement  probable.  The  enemy  already  had 
armies  in  the  field  when  the  Confederacy  had  only  detachments ; 
and  news  had  just  arrived  of  two  affairs  in  which  they  had  struck 
a  heavy  blow  at  the  dawning  hopes  of  the  South.  General  Pe- 
gram  had  been  compelled  to  surrender  at  Rich  Mountain,  and 
General  Garnett  was  defeated  and  killed  at  Carrick's  Ford,  in 
Western  Virginia — the  enemy  rode  upon  the  summit  of  the 
wave  of  success. 

They  would  undoubtedly,  now,  push  forward  with  their  two 
armies  at  Washington  and  in  the  Valley.  Stuart  had  harassed 
their  foraging  parties  and  pickets  incessantly  with  his  three 
hundred  cavalry,  and  Johnston  had  faced  them  in  line  of  battle 
every  day;  but  it  was  very  plain  that,  when  once  their  great 
forces  were  in  motion,  every  resource  of  generalship  would  be 
needed  to  oppose  their  predominance  in  numbers.  Above  all,  a 
thorough  co-operation  must  be  secured  between  the  column 
under  Johnston  and  that  under  Beauregard  at  Manassas. 

I  rode  with  Colonel  Jackson  to  head-quarters,  and  waited, 
conversing  with  the  staff  as  usual,  while  the  council  of  war  took 
place.  While  thus  engaged,  I  was  summoned  to  attend  General 
Johnston. 

I  found  him  seated  at  a  table,  surrounded  by  his  chief  officers 
in  full  uniform,  and  wearing  their  sabres.  Jackson  wa3  quietly 
examining  a  map ;  Stuart  was  drumming  upon  the  table,  and 
reflecting. 


THE    CAVALRY    PICKET.  107 

I  saluted,  and  waited  to  be  addressed. 

"  Captain,"  said  General  Johnston,  in  his  measured  voice,  "  you 
jre  suggested  as  a  competent  person  to  carry  an  important  com- 
munication to  General  Beauregard  at  Manassas,  and  explain  to 
him  the  situation  of  affairs  here.     Have  you  a  good  horse  ?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"  When  can  you  set  out?" 

"  In  half  an  hour." 

"  At  daylight  will  do,  but  lose  no  time  on  the  road.  Here  is 
the  dispatch — it  embraces  the  main  points.  I  depend  upon  your 
good  sense  and  judgment  to  reply  accurately  to  General  Beaure- 
gard's questions." 

I  bowed  and  took  the  dispatch. 

"Any  further  instructions,  General?" 

"That  is  all." 

I  saluted  and  withdrew. 

Half  an  hour  afterward  Jackson  came  out  and  mounted  his 
horse,  holding  in  his  hand  a  large  envelope,  which  evidently 
covered  an  *'  official  document."  It  seemed  to  embarrass  him, 
and  he  said  : 

"Captain,  will  you  carry  this?" 

I  took  it,  but  said:  "  I  may  forget  and  take  it  to  Manassas  with 
me,  Colonel,  when,  in  case  it  is  important" — 

"  It  is  not  important.     You  may  read  it." 

I  opened  the  paper,  and  glanced  at  it.  It  was  Jackson's  ap- 
pointment as  Brigadier-General. 

He  was  riding  on  absently,  in  deep  thought. 


XXIX. 

THE    CAVALRY    PICKET. 

At  daylight  I  was  in  the  saddle  and  on  the  road  to  Manassas. 
My  horse  was  fresh,  the  weather  fine ;  and,  passing  to  the  left  of 
Millwood,  I  forded  the  Shenandoah,  and  rode  rapidly  through 
Ashby's  Gap. 


'108  SURRY    OF    E  AG-LE 'S-NEST. 

At  Paris,  a  little  village  perched  on  the  eastern  slope  of  the 
mountain,  I  looked  toward  the  south.  Two  or  three  hours,  at 
the  farthest,  would  take  me  to  "The  Oaks!"  and,  as  the  thought 
occurred  to  me,  something  like  a  thrill  passed  through  me. 
Then,  as  the  novelists  say,  any  one  who  had  been  present  "  might 
have  seen"  a  bitter  smile  distort  my  lip.  Why  should  I  go  there 
to  covet  my  neighbor's  wife,  and  groan  for  the  amusement  of  the 
future  Mrs.  Baskermlle. 

I  pushed  on.  Soon  the  bitterness  disappeared  from  my  heart. 
"Poor  thing  !"  I  muttered — that  was  all. 

Passing  successively  through  Upperville,  Middleburg,  and 
Aldie,  I  turned,  late  in  the  afternoon,  into  a  road  leading  by  way 
of  Sudley  Ford  to  Manassas. 

Darkness  gradually  descended,  and  I  had  seen  no  human  being 
for  more  than  an  hour,  when,  as  I  approached  Bull  Run,  I  sud- 
denly heard  the  quick  "  Halt!"  of  a  picket. 

"Friend!"  was  my  reply;  and  "Advance  friend,  and  give  the 
countersign!"  came  back. 

"I  have  no  countersign,"  I  responded,  fording  the  stream  as  I 
spoke.  "  I  am  carrying  a  dispatch  to  General  Beauregard,  and 
am  your  prisoner.     "Where  is  your  officer?" 

The  carbine  of  the  cavalry-man  was  lowered  at  these  words, 
and,  calling  a  comrade,  he  announced  who  I  was.  I  was  then 
conducted  forward,  and  soon  descried,  through  the  boughs,  the 
glimmer  of  a  light,  which  issued  from  a  camp-fire  in  front  of  a 
small  tent. 

At  ten  paces  from  the  tent,  as  I  approached,  I  saw  a  dark  figure 
about  to  mount  a  powerful  horse  in  the  shadow  of  the  trees. 

"Here  is  a  prisoner,  Captain,"  said  my  escort,  saluting. 

"Bring  him  up,"  was  the  reply,  in  a  deep  voice  which  I  re* 
cognized. 

And,  turning  round,  the  person  about  to  mount  approached 
the  fire. 

The  light  fell  on  his  features,  and  I  saw  before  me  the  dark 
face  and  powerful  form  of  Mordaunt. 


THE    STONE    HOUSE    AT    MANASSAS.      109 

XXX. 

THE    STONE    HOUSE    AT    MANASSAS. 

He  met  me  with  a  cordiality  which  really  surprised  me.  Hia 
face  was  gloomy  still,  and  his  voice  as  deep  and  measured ;  but 
the  weary  air  of  the  recluse  had  yielded  to  the  martial  ardor  of 
the  soldier. 

At  the  door  of  the  tent  stood  the  young  Moor,  Achmed,  who 
evidently  filled  something  like  the  position  of  a  confidential  body- 
servant  near  my  host.  At  sight  of  me,  the  young  Moor  saluted 
courteously ;  and  then,  at  a  sign  from  Mordaunt,  busily  set  about 
preparing  some  supper  for  me.  This  was  set  out  upon  a  camp- 
chest,  by  a  negro,  under  the  Moor's  orders — and  soon  I  tasted 
once  more  that  bitter  black  coffee,  which  revived  my  weary  frame 
like  some  elixir  vitm. 

As  I  supped,  Mordaunt  conversed ;  and  I  had  soon  put  him  in 
possession  of  the  situation  in  the  Valley.  In  return  he  explained 
the  state  of  affairs  at  Manassas,  and  informed  me,  in  brief  words, 
that  he  had  been  with  General  Beauregard  since  May. 

As  he  spoke  I  could  see  more  than  ever  the  change  in  him. 
He  evidently  enjoyed  the  life  of  the  bivouac  far  more  than  that 
of  the  library.  His  gloomy  air  of  languor  and  cynical  disdain  had 
disappeared;  and,  although  his  melancholy  seemed  too  deeply 
rooted  to  be  eradicated,  he  was  altogether  a  different  individual. 
As  I  listened  to  his  sonorous  voice,  and  looked  at  his  large  and 
muscular  frame,  I  was  confirmed  in  my  former  conviction,  that 
action  and  not  meditation  was  the  forte  of  this  powerful  organ- 
ization. 

When  I  had  finished  my  supper,  and  my  horse  had  ground 
between  his  teeth  the  last  handful  of  a  plentiful  supply  of  corn,  I 
rose  and  informed  Mordaunt  that  I  must  go  on  to  General  Beau- 
regard. 

"I  will  ride  with  you  a  portion  of  the  way,"  was  his  reply. 
"I  was  just  going  on  my  rounds  to  inspect  the  pickets,  but  I 
will  sbow  you  your  road,  and  take  my  ride  when  I  roturn." 


110  SURRY    OF    EAGLE'S-NEST. 

I  accepted  this  friendly  offer,  and,  mounting  our  horses,  we 
soon  reached  Sudley  Ford,  where  Mordaunt  passed  me  through 
his  interior  picket.  "We  then  rode  on  through  the  darkness,  which 
had  become  intense. 

"I  never  saw  a  blacker  night  in  all  my  life,"  I  said. 

"It  is  dark  enough,"  replied  my  companion,  "but  I  know  the 
road." 

"Is  this  country  familiar  to  you?" 

"Naturally,  as  I  have  been  picketing  it." 

"  But  you  never  were  here  before  the  breaking  out  of  the 
war  ?" 

My  companion  did  not  reply  for  a  moment.     He  then  said  : 

"Yes." 

There  was  a  sudden  gloom  in  his  tone  as  he  uttered  this  mono- 
syllable, which  I  could  not  avoid  observing. 

"Then  we  can't  lose  our  way,"  I  replied,  as  we  rode  on.  I 
am  fortunate  in  having  you  to  show  me  the  road,  as  I  really  can- 
not see  my  hand  before  me.  What  a  country !  I  don't  see  any 
eigns  of  an  inhabitant.     Are  there  any  houses  near  us?" 

"  There  is  one  not  far  off,"  was  Mordaunt's  gloomy  reply,  "  but 
it  is  not  occupied." 

"A  deserted  house — ah!"  I  said,  with  a  laugh.  ""Well,  that 
is  exactly  in  keeping  with  the  funereal  landscape.  One  would 
really  say  that  this  country  was  intended  for  some  bloody  battle- 
field— to  become  the  scene  of  suffering  and  death !  It  is  as 
lugubrious  as  the  grave,  and  your  deserted  house  must  re- 
semble a  spectre.  Come,  relate  some  ghostly  story  connected 
with  the  place,  and  the  influence  of  the  landscape  will  be  com- 
plete." 

Mordaunt  did  not  seem  to  participate,  in  any  degree,  in  my 
merriment.  For  some  moments  he  preserved  silence,  and  when 
he  spoke  his  voice  was  as  gloomy  as  death  itself. 

"  I  have  no  story  to  tell,"  was  his  brief  response  ;  but  this  only 
piqued  my  curiosity. 

"Come,  acknowledge,"  I  said,  laughing,  "that  there  is  some 
mysterious  and  tragic  affair  in  your  memory !  Confess  that  thia 
spectral  mansion  you  refer  to  was  the  scene  of  it — and  that  no 


THE    STONE    HOUSE    AT    MANASSAS.    Ill 

human  being  can  be  induced  again  to  set  foot  inside  of  its  ac- 
cursed walls !" 

"  You  are  right,  sir,"  said  Mordaunt,  suddenly,  in  tones  as  cold 
as  ice,  "the  place  is  accursed! — trebly  accursed!" 

So  abrupt  was  his  reply,  and  his  accents  were  so  filled  with 
gloomy  menace,  that  I  started  in  spite  of  myself.  Before  I  could 
make  any  reply,  he  seemed  to  have  realized  his  indiscretion,  and, 
uttering  a  harsh  laugh,  added  coolly : 

"  You  see,  I  partake  of  your  superstitious  feelings.  I  agree  with 
you,  that  these  'haunted  houses,'  as  they  are  called  by  children, 
produce  a  singular  effect  upon  the  imagination — you  see  that  this 
one  has  had  that  effect  upon  me." 

He  spoke  with  perfect  coolness,  but  his  nonchalance  did  not 
deceive  me.  His  exclamation  had  been  far  too  gloomy  to  be  at- 
tributable to  any  mere  sentiment  such  as  he  described.  His  reply 
was  an  evasion — I  was  sure  of  that — his  former  speech  the  out- 
burst of  some  hidden  tragedy. 

"We  rode  on,  however,  without  further  reference  to  the  topic, 
and  soon  I  saw  before  me  a  dark  object,  which  was  doubtless  the 
house  in  question.  It  was  a  gloomy-looking  building,  of  dark 
stone,  near  the  intersection  of  the  Warrenton  and  Sudley-Brents- 
ville  roads,  and  in  the  very  heart  of  the  subsequent  battle.  Thou- 
sands of  my  readers  will,  no  doubt,  remember  it  as  the  "Old 
Stone  House  at  Manassas." 

"  That  is  your  spectral  mansion,  I  suppose,"  was  my  comment. 
"  "Well,  you  did  not  exaggerate  in  describing  it  as  looking  accursed. 
The  very  owls  seem  to  have  deserted  it!" 

"Yes,"  came  briefly  from  my  companion.  Then  he  suddenly 
checked  his  horse,  and  said,  in  a  low  tone : 

"That  is  strange!" 

"What?"  I  said. 

"I  see  a  light  yonder  !" 

I  looked,  and,  in  fact,  a  light  was  seen  glimmering  through 
what  seemed  to  be  a  window  or  doorway  in  the  house. 

"That  is  singular,"  I  said,  "as  you  say  the  place  is  not  occu- 
pied ;  but  doubtless  some  straggling  soldiers  have  made  their  den 
there." 


112  SURRY    OF    EAG-LE'S-NEST. 

"It  is  probable." 

But  the  low  tones  appeared  to  say,  "It  is  not  probable." 

As  Mordaunt  spoke,  the  light  moved,  disappeared  for  an  in- 
stant, and  then  reappeared,  moving  along  the  ground  in  rear  of 
the  house.     Some  one  seemed  to  be  carrying  a  lantern. 

My  companion  remained  motionless  for  some  moments,  gazing 
at  this  weird  will-o'-the-wisp :  then  he  touched  his  horse  with 
the  spur,  and  rode  straight  toward  the  house. 

"  "We  have  stumbled  upon  something  very  much  like  an  ad- 
venture," he  said,  with  a  harsh  laugh.  "  Come !  it  is  very  little 
out  of  our  way — let  us  ride  by,  and  see  what  is  going  on !" 

I  followed  without  a  word,  and  we  rode  on  through  a  field  in 
the  direction  of  the  house.  It  looked  inexpressibly  dreary,  as 
the  gloomy  gable  loomed  out  indistinctly  against  the  dark  back- 
ground of  the  sky.  It  was  ink  upon  ink:  the  gloomy  thing 
seemed  to  rise  up  before  the  eyes  like  some  monstrous  animal ;  to 
approach  and  weigh  upon  the  chest. 

Fifty  yards  from  the  sombre  mansion,  a  thick  hedge  of  Osage 
orange  arrested  us.  Through  this,  however,  the  light  was  still 
seen  to  glimmer — stationary  now  upon  the  ground — and  I  could 
make  out,  around  it,  a  desolate  and  weed-encumbered  garden, 
containing  only  a  few  stunted  fruit-trees. 

Under  one  of  these  trees  stood  a  man  and  a  woman.  In  the 
shadow  of  the  tree,  a  third  figure,  apparently  that  of  a  female, 
was  dimly  visible.  On  the  ground  was  a  coffin  beside  a  newly- 
dug  grave. 

Mordaunt  did  not  utter  a  word,  but  I  heard  his  low  breathing 
at  my  ear. 

"  Look  !"  I  muttered  in  a  whisper.  "  I  told  you  this  spot  had 
something  ghostly  about  it.     They  are  burying  a  dead  body!" 

My  companion  did  not  reply,  but  a  ray  from  tbe  light  fell  upon 
his  face,  and  its  expression  was  startling.  I  never  saw  a  deeper 
pallor  on  the  human  countenance ;  and  his  singular  expression 
of  stupefied  surprise  astonished  me.  What  connection  could 
Mordaunt  have  with  this  scene,  and  why  did  it  move  him  so?  I 
thought  my  eyes  must  have  deceived  me  ;  but  the  next  moment 
served  to  explain  a  part  of  the  mystery. 


THE  STONE  HOUSE  AT  MANASSAS.  113 

The  man  at  the  grave  turned  round,  and  the  light  fell  upon 
his  face.  I  recognized  Fenwick — and  at  the  same  instant  made 
out  the  face  of  his  companion.  It  was  the  woman  Parkins. 
The  third  figure  I  could  not  see,  as  the  shadow  of  the  tree-trunk 
concealed  it. 

Mordaunt  laid  his  hand  on  my  arm,  and  said,  in  a  low,  set  tone, 
as  cold  as  ice  : 

"  You  recognize  that  man,  do  you  not?" 

"  Certainly.     It  is  Fenwick." 

"And  that  woman" — 

"  I  know  her  too." 

"It  is  well,"  said  Mordaunt,  through  his  clinched  teeth. 
"What  devil's  errand  they  have  come  upon,  I  do  not  know,  or 
why  they  should  be  here  burying  any  one — but  I  know  that 
the  hour  I  have  long  looked  for  has  come." 

There  was  a  concentrated  hate  in  the  low  tones  of  his  voice, 
which  made  further  words  unnecessary. 

"Let  us  wait,"  he  added,  coolly,   "  and  see  the  comedy  out." 

And,  leaning  forward  on  his  horse's  neck,  he  seemed  to  de- 
vour with  his  eyes  the  movements  of  the  figures  in  the  gar- 
den. 

Fenwick  had,  meanwhile,  hung  the  lantern  on  a  bough  of  the 
stunted  tree  under  which  the  grave  had  been  dug ;  and  now, 
with  the  assistance  of  the  woman  Parkins,  inserted  ropes  be- 
neath the  coffin.  Without  further  delay,  or  any  burial  service, 
it  was  lowered  into  the  grave,  and  Fenwick  seized  a  spade  lying 
near.  A  harsh  and  grating  sound  was  then  heard — it  was  the 
dirt  falling  on  the  coffin.  Fenwick  worked  with  great  energy 
and  rapidity,  and  the  grave  was  soon  filled.  Throwing  the  last 
spadeful  on  the  hillock,  he  wiped  his  forehead,  exchanged  some 
hurried  words,  apparently  with  the  woman  Parkins,  and,  taking 
down  the  lantern,  proceeded  with  rapid  steps,  followed  by  his 
two  companions,  toward  the  house. 

I  was  leaning  close  beside  Mordaunt,  and  could  see  his  face. 
It  was  paler  even  than  before,  and  there  was  a  deadly  meaning 
in  his  eyes. 

"Well,"  I  said,  gloomy  in  spite  of  myself  at  this  nocturnal 


114  SURRY    OF   EAGLE'S-NEST. 

adventure,  "  we  have  seen  the  play  through.     What  is  the  after- 
piece ?" 

"  Follow  me,  and  you  will  see,"  said  my  companion.  Ashe 
spoke,  I  heard  the  click  of  his  pistol  as  he  tried  the  barrel.  His 
voice  was  so  cold  and  steady  that  the  hand  must  be  equally  so. 
"  This  time,  Fen  wick  is  a  dead  man,"  I  thought. 


XXXI. 

"WHAT    TOOK    PLACE    AT    THE    STONE    HOUSE. 

Laying  his  hand  upon  my  arm,  Mordaunt  drew  me  away 
from  the  hedge,  and,  moving  carefully  over  the  turf,  which  muf- 
fled the  sound  of  the  horses'  hoofs,  made  a  detour,  reaching 
thus  the  front  of  the  house.  Before  it  stood  a  light  one-horse 
wagon,  which  had,  doubtless,  served  to  convey  the  dead  body : 
beyond  this,  a  riding  horse  was  standing  beneath  a  tree. 

"  Listen,"  said  Mordaunt,  in  a  whisper.  "  I  know  this  house 
and  the  grounds  perfectly.  There  is  no  means  of  exit  from  that 
garden,  except  a  small  gate  close  against  the  gable  end  of  the 
house.  Do  me  the  favor  to  take  your  place  there,  and  allow  no 
one  to  pass." 

"  You  are  going  into  the  house?" 

"Certainly." 

"  To  find  Fenwick  ?" 

"  Ah  !  you  have  guessed  that  ?" 

"It  don't  require  much  penetration.     But  take  care." 

"  Of  what  ?" 

"He  is  a  treacherous  animal — there  may  be  many  persons  in. 
that  den." 

"  It  is  nothing." 

"If  so,  call  me  promptly." 

"  Thanks — but  it  is  not  ten  men,  or  one  hundred,  that  can 
keep  me  from  driving  my  sword's  point  through  that  man's 
heart." 

This  rapid  dialogue  had  taken  place  in  a  low  tone,  and  Mor- 


SCENES    AT    THE    STONE    HOUSE.       115 

daunt  had  quickly  dismounted,  throwing  his  bridle  over  the 
fence.  I  imitated  him,  and  ran  to  the  gate,  just  as  the  interior 
of  the  house  was  illuminated,  and  the  sound  of  footsteps  upon 
the  creaking  floor  indicated  that  the  party  had  entered  by  the 
door  in  the  rear. 

A  rapid  inspection  told  me  that  the  side  gate  was  securely 
fastened,  and,  finding  it  unnecessary  to  guard  it,  I  hastened  to 
follow  Mordaunt,  who  had  rushed  into  the  house. 

The  scene  which  greeted  me  was  long  engraved  upon  my 
memory.  The  apartment  was  bare,  desolate-looking,  and  re- 
pulsive. The  window-panes  were  broken,  the  fireplace  full 
of  soot  and  ashes,  and  the  walls  were  festooned  with  cob- 
webs. Tbese  details  I  made  out  by  the  light  of  the  lantern, 
which  had  been  placed  upon  a  dilapidated  pine  table,  sole  fur- 
niture of  the  mansion.  By  the  fireplace  stood  the  woman 
Parkins,  grim  and  lowering,  with  contracted  brows,  and  still 
holding  the  spade  which  she  had  brought  into  the  house* 
Opposite  Mordaunt  I  saw  Fenwick,  pale  and  desperate;  and,  as 
I  entered  the  doorway,  his  hand  clutched  and  drew  a  revolver 
from  his  belt. 

What  followed  did  not  occupy  thirty  seconds. 

Mordaunt  rushed  upon  his  adversary,  Fenwick's  pistol  was 
raised  and  discharged,  the  ball  whistling  past  my  head — when 
suddenly,  before  he  could  fire  a  second  time,  the  form  of  a 
woman  interposed  itself  between  the  combatants. 

It  was  Violet  Grafton,  with .  the  same  golden  ringlets,  the 
same  delicate,  earnest  face,  and  the  same  wonderful  likeness  to 
the  portrait  in  Mordaunt's  study. 

The  effect  which  her  appearance  produced  upon  him  was  ter- 
rible. He  recoiled,  as  though  he  had  seen  a  ghost,  his  sword's 
point  fell  with  a  clattering  sound  to  the  floor,  and,  with  his  eyes 
glaring  upon  the  young  lady,  he  turned  so  ghastly  pale  that  I 
thought  he  was  going  to  faint. 

From  this  stupor,  however,  he  was  aroused  in  a  manner 
equally  sudden  and  disagreeable. 

Disappointed  in  his  first  aim,  Fenwick  had  deliberately  raised 
his  pistol,  aimed  at  Mordaunt's  heart,  arid  fired.     The  result 


116  SURRY    OF    EAGLE'S-NEST. 

would  have  been  fatal  but  for  Miss  Grafton.  She  struck  up  the 
weapon  as  it  was  discharged ;  the  bullet  buried  itself  in  the 
wall ;  and  in  an  instant  Mordaunt  would  have  driven  his  sword 
through  his  adversary's  breast,  when  all  at  once  the  whole  scene 
was  plunged  in  darkness. 

Fenwick,  by  a  quick  movement,  had  extinguished  the  light ; 
his  figure  was  seen  for  an  instant  as  it  passed  through  the  open 
window ;  and  a  moment  afterward  the  hoof-strokes  of  a  horse 
departing  at  full  gallop  were  heard  upon  the  ground  without. 

With  one  powerful  bound  Mordaunt  passed  through  the  door- 
way, threw  himself  upon  his  horse,  and  followed  the  retreating 
horseman  with  the  fury  of  a  tiger  despoiled  of  his  prey. 

I  was  close  upon  the  heels  of  his  flying  animal — for  an  irre- 
sistible desire  mastered  me  to  be  present  at  the  execution  of  his 
vengeance. 

"  Do  you  hear  him?"  I  said. 

"I  think  so,"  was  the  hoarse  reply. 

And  the  speaker  continued  his  headlong  pursuit. 

We  went  on  at  a  furious  speed  for  more  than  half  an  hour — 
then  all  sounds  in  front  had  ceased.  Fenwick  seemed  to  have 
vanished.  Taking  some  by-road  known  only  to  himself,  he  had 
escaped. 

A  mile  further,  Mordaunt  uttered  something  like  the  growl  of 
a  wounded  lion,  and  drew  rein.  For  some  moments  he  listened 
— then  he  said  through  his  clinched  teeth  : 

"  He  has  got  off!     The  devil  takes  care  of  his  own  !" 

And  I  heard  his  teeth  grinding  together  as  he  spoke. 

Without  further  words,  he  turned  the  head  of  his  horse,  and 
we  rode  slowly  back.  On  the  way,  Mordaunt  did  not  utter  a 
single  word,  and  I  did  not  intrude  upon  his  thoughts. 

Soon  the  gloomy  Stone  House  again  appeared  before  us,  and 
we  rode  toward  it.  No  light  was  visible  now,  and  the  wagon,  we 
found,  had  also  disappeared.  Miss  Grafton  and  her  companion 
had  vanished  like  Fenwick.  The  Stone  House  resembled  a  gigan- 
tic tomb — and  was  as  dreary,  mournful,  and  deserted. 


BEAUREGARD.  117 

XXXII. 

BEAUREGARD. 

I  had  scarcely  come  to  realize  that  Miss  Grafton  had  disap- 
peared, when  my  attention  was  attracted  hy  the  noise  of  horses' 
hoofs  coming  from  the  direction  of  Stonebridge. 

"Ilalt!  who  goes  there?"  was  Mordaunt's  quick  summons. 

"Friends,"  said  a  firm  and  sonorous  voice.  "What  picket  is 
this  ?" 

"It  is  General  Beauregard,"  Mordaunt  said  to  me,  and  he 
added  : 

"  Advance,  General — I  am  Captain  Mordaunt." 

"Ah!  an  amateur  picket?"  said  General  Beauregard,  riding 
up,  followed  by  a  staff  officer  and  an  orderly.  "I  have  been  the 
rounds,  and  am  glad  to  find  you  on  the  qui  vive,  Captain — but 
that  you  always  are.  I  wish  the  infantry  were  as  vigilant.  The 
picket  at  Stonebridge  has  actually  allowed  a  wagon  with  two 
women  to  pass  to-night  toward  Alexandria,  contrary  to  all  my 
orders." 

Then  Miss  Grafton  and  her  companion  had  gone  in  that  direc- 
tion. 

After  a  few  words  more,  Mordaunt  presented  mo  to  General 
Beauregard,  and,  declaring  that  he  must  return  to  inspect  his 
pickets,  took  leave  of  us.  In  a  moment  he  had  disappeared,  and 
I  turned  to  General  Beauregard,  who  had  greeted  me  with  grave 
courtesy. 

"  I  have  a  dispatch,  General." 

And  I  handed  it  to  him. 

"  Thank  you.  Captain ;  I  will  read  it  at  once." 

And,  making  a  sign  to  his  orderly,  he  soon  had  a  light.  As  the 
wind  was  near  putting  it  out,  he  dismounted  and  entered  the 
deserted  house,  where,  leaning  against  the  old  table,  he  read 
General  Johnston's  note. 

As  he  did  so,  I  looked  with  much  interest  at  the  "Man  of 
Sumter."     His  appearance  was  decidedly  French,  and  realized 


118  SURRY    OF    EAGLE'S-NEST. 

my  conception  of  Napoleon's  marshals.  He  was  apparently 
about  forty-five  or  fifty  years  of  age  ;  of  medium  height;  gaunt, 
square  built,  and  wearing  the  blue  dress-coat  of  the  United  States 
Army,  buttoned  to  the  chin,  on  each  side  of  which  rose  the  points 
of  a  stiff  white  collar.  The  forehead,  half  covered  by  a  Zouave 
cap,  was  broad,  with  thin,  dark  hair  at  the  temples ;  the  com- 
plexion sallow  and  brunette  ;  the  eyes  large,  black,  and  thought- 
ful ;  the  thin  lips  nearly  concealed  by  a  heavy  black  mustache. 
The  powerful  jaw  indicated  hard  "  fight "  in  its  possessor,  and 
in  the  slumberous  eye  I  read  something  of  the  dormant  fire  of 
the  bloodhound. 

The  face  was  wholly  un-Virginian — rather  a  Creole,  tropical 
countenance  ;  but  there  was  a  noble  simplicity  in  its  expression, 
and  a  vigor  in  the  poise  of  the  head  which  made  a  strong  im- 
pression upon  me.  A  single  glance  told  me  that  this  man  pos- 
sessed military  genius. 

"  I  have  read  the  dispatch  you  were  good  enough  to  bring, 
Captain,"  said  the  General,  issuing  forth  and  mounting  his  horse, 
"  and  I  will  be  glad  if  you  will  be  my  guest  for  a  day  or  two.  I 
wish  both  to  ask  you  a  great  many  questions,  and  to  ride  over 
and  show  you  the  ground  here.  It  is  desirable  that  General 
Johnston  should  have  an  officer  near  him  who  has  examined  it — 
as  you  doubtless  understand." 

I  bowed ;  assured  the  General  that  I  was  entirely  at  his  or- 
ders ;  and  rode  back  with  him  to  Manassas,  where  he  had  hi3 
head-quarters  in  a  small  farm-house. 

An  hour  afterward  T  was  shown  to  an  apartment  containing 
a  comfortable  pallet ;  but  the  singular  events  which  I  had  wit- 
nessed at  the  Stone  House  kept  me  awake  until  long  past  mid^ 
night.     Finally  I  sank  to  sleep. 


THE    LINES.  119 

XXXIII. 

THE     LINES. 

On  the  next  morning  I  had  just  risen  from  my  straw  pallet 
when  General  Beauregard  entered  and  saluted  me  with  grave 
courtesy. 

"  I  will  he  glad  if  you  will  ride  with  me  this  morning,  Cap- 
tain," he  said,  "and  I  will  explain  the  position  of  affairs  here." 

I  bowed,  and  informed  the  General  that  I  was  at  his  orders. 
After  a  plain  breakfast,  we  mounted  and  set  out  for  a  ride  along 
the  entire  lines. 

General  Beauregard  had  taken  up  a  strong  position  along  Bull 
Bun,  a  small  watercourse,  with  thickly  wooded  banks,  running 
around  Manassas,  and  emptying  into  the  Occoquan.  Three  miles 
in  front  was  Centreville ;  three  miles  in  rear,  Manassas.  From 
Union  Mills,  the  extreme  right  of  the  line,  to  Stonebridge,  the 
extreme  left,  was  about  seven  or  eight  miles.  Mitchell's  Ford, 
on  the  main  road  from  Manassas  to  Centreville,  was  the  Confed- 
erate centre. 

"The  enemy  will  attack  here  first,"  said  General  Beauregard; 
"but  I  have  the  advantage  of  position.  If  they  strike  with  their 
main  body  at  either  flank,  it  will  lay  them  open  to  an  attack  in 
return." 

"We  passed  on,  following  the  earthworks  along  the  high  banks 
of  the  stream.  The  position  appeared  impregnable — the  troops 
defending  it,  in  excellent  spirits.  In  front  of  Stonebridge  a 
heavy  abatis  of  felled  trees,  commanded  by  artillery,  defended 
the  approach  by  the  Warrenton  road. 

Passing  near  the  afterward  celebrated  Henry  House,  General 
Beauregard  said  that,  if  the  enemy  succeeded  in  crossing  on  tha 
left,  the  battle  would  be  there. 

"  The  battle  of  Bull  Run,"  he  said  in  a  low  tone,  as  if  to  him- 
aolf. 

"  That  is  rather  an  unclassic  name,  General." 

"It  is  as  good  as  'The  Cowpens,'  Caplain."  * 

*  His  words. 


120  SUEKY   OF    EAGLE'S-NEST. 

And  the  white  teeth  shone  under  the  black  mustache. 

After  a  long  ride,  in  which  General  Beauregard  pointed  out 
every  detail  of  the  ground,  we  rode  back  to  head-quarters,  where 
a  good  supper  awaited  us.  On  the  next  morning  the  ride  was 
repeated,  and  this  time  Ave  visited  Fairfax  Court-House,  where 
General  Bonham  was  in  command  of  the  advance  force. 

"The  enemy  are  about  to  move,"  said  General  Beauregard  on 
the  way  back.  "  Now  is  the  time  for  General  Johnston  to  put 
himself  in  motion." 

"  At  your  orders,  General." 

'•Do  not  go  until  the  morning.  I  wish  to  send  the  last  news 
from  the  front." 

I  was  aroused  at  three  in  the  morning  by  an  orderly,  who  said : 

"  Captain,  General  Beauregard  would  like  to  see  you." 

In  a  moment  I  had  buckled  on  my  sword  and  was  in  the  pres- 
ence of  the  General. 


XXXIY. 

THE  HEROINE  OF  MANASSAS. 

The  first  person  I  saw  was  Mordaunt.  That  iron  calmness 
which  habitually  characterized  his  dark  features  was  unchanged, 
but  I  could  see  black  marks  under  his  eyes,  and  his  pallor  was 
frightful. 

As  I  afterward  ascertained,  he  had  brought  General  Beaure- 
gard a  detailed  statement  of  the  numbers  and  composition  of 
the  Federal  forces,  which  one  of  his  scouts  had  arrived  with, 
an  hour  before.  The  same  scout  had  brought  the  additional  in- 
telligence that  the  enemy  had  begun  their  advance. 

General  Beauregard  had  not  slept,  having  been  up  all  night 
receiving  reports  and  sending  orders.  His  face  was  sallower 
than  ever,  but  his  black  eyes  were  undimmed. 

He  handed  me  a  paper  in  an  envelope,  and  said  : 

"  I  will  be  glad,  Captain,  if  you  will  immediately  return  to 
General  Johnston  with  this  dispatch,  and  inform  him  that  the 
enemy's  column  is  in  motion  to  attack  me." 


THE    HEROINE    OF    MANASSAS.         121 

I  bowed,  and  waited  to  hear  any  thing  further. 

"  That  is  all,  Captain — except  that  you  can  tell  General  John- 
ston that,  if  he  wishes  to  help  me,  now  is  the  time."* 

I  was  leaving  the  apartment  when  the  voice  of  the  General 
arrested  me. 

"  Upon  reflection,  you  had  better  remain  until  daylight.  I  ex- 
pect to  hear  from  the  front  soon,  and  you  can  carry  the  last 
intelligence. 

As  he  spoke,  an  orderly  entered,  and  said  : 

"  Here  is  a  prisoner,  General — a  woman." 

"  From  whom  ? 

"General  Ewell,  sir." 

"  I  will  see  her  at  once." 

The  door  opened,  and  suddenly  I  saw  Mordaunt's  eye  flash.  I 
turned  quickly,  and  looked  toward  the  door.  On  the  threshold 
stood  the  prisoner.     It  was  Yiolet  Grafton. 

She  wore  a  long  dark  riding-skirt,  and  in  her  right  hand 
carried  a  small  whip.  Her  manner  was  perfectly  composed — 
two  red  spots  burning  in  the  centre  of  her  cheeks,  otherwise 
pale  from  fatigue  and  want  of  sleep,  were  the  only  evidences  of 
emotion  which  she  exhibited. 

The  General  rose,  and  gravely  saluted  her. 

"  Are  you  the  prisoner  mentioned,  madam?" 

"I  suppose  so,  sir,"  was  her  reply,  in  the  calm  sweet  voice  I 
knew  so  well. 

"General  Ewell  sent  you?" 

"  Yes,  sir." 

Suddenly,  as  she  looked  around  the  apartment,  the  young 
lady's-  eyes  encountered  my  own.  She  made  a  step  forward, 
and,  holding  out  her  hand  with  that  inexpressible  grace  and 
frankness  which  characterized  her,  said  : 

"Captain  Surry,  I  am  very  glad  you  are  here!  They  insist 
upon  regarding  me  as  a  spy  and  a  prisoner,  when  I  have  ridden 
until  my  strength  is  broken  down  to  bring  important  news.  If 
this  is  General  Beauregard,  tell  him  that  you  know  me,  and  that 
I  am  worthy  of  credit.     It  is  hard,  after  all  my  trouble  and  ex- 

*  His  word*. 
6 


122  SURRY    OF    EAGLE'S-NEST. 

posure — a  girl  riding  by  herself  at  night  through  an  army — it  is 
very  hard  to  be  considered  a  spy." 

A  few  words  from  myself  at  once  placed  the  young  lady  in 
her  proper  light,  and  she  made  her  statement.     It  was  important. 

She  had  passed  through  the  Confederate  lines  a  day  or  two 
before,  she  said,  on  her  way  to  Alexandria,  when,  on  reaching 
Annandale,  she  and  her  travelling  companion  received  the  intel- 
ligence that  the  enemy  were  advancing.  Before  they  could 
leave  the  place,  the  Federal  column  had  entered  it,  and  the 
house  at  which  Miss  Grafton  had  stopped  was  taken  as  the  head- 
quarters of  one  of  the  Generals,  whose  division  encamped  in 
the  adjoining  fields.  The  Federal  General  seated  himself,  with- 
out ceremony,  at  breakfast  with  the  family,  and  indulged  in 
many  jests  at  the  expense  of  General  Beauregard  and  the  Con- 
federates. "  They  knew  all  about  his  lines  on  Bull  Run,"  said 
the  Federal  officer ;  "  they  had  no  intention  of  attacking  the 
centre,  opposite  Manassas — nor  the  right.  The  attack  would  be 
against  the  left  of  the  rebel  line  above  Stonebridge,  and  they 
would  be  run  out  of  their  holes  before  they  knew  it."  Miss 
Grafton  had  listened  attentively  to  all  this,  not,  however,  with- 
out some  expression  of  disdain  upon  her  countenance.  The 
Federal  officer  now  added  that  he  was  supplied  with  a  number 
of  Confederate  flags,  which  he  intended  to  make  use  of  to  de- 
ceive the  rebels ;  and  Miss  Grafton  asked,  if  he  was  not  afraid 
to  speak  so  freely  before .  every  one.  "  Pshaw !"  was  his  laugh- 
ing reply,  "  you  can't  get  through  our  lines.  Before  you  could 
arrive,  even  if  you  did,  we'll  have  the  rebels  in  full  retreat  on 
Richmond."  Ten  minutes  afterward,  an  order  came  for  the 
division  to  march  ;  it  moved  on — and  Miss  Grafton  hastened  to 
present  herself  before  General  McDowell  in  person.  She  in- 
formed him  that  the  advance  had  caught  her  at  Annandale,  and 
asked  for  a  pass  to  return  to  her  friends  in  the  country  near. 
This  was  granted— she  rode  alone  through  the  crowding  Fede- 
ral camps — between  long  lines  of  red  Zouaves — pushed  her 
horse  to  a  gallop,  and,  travelling  all  night,  came  into  General 
Ewell's  lines  toward  morning.* 

*  A  real  incidei 


I    RETURN    THE    PACKAGE.  123 

"  That  is  all,  General,"  said  Miss  Grafton ;  "  it  may  no'  be  very 
important,  but  I  am  sure  from  the  manner  in  which  the  Federal 
officer  spoke  that  he  was  in  earnest." 

"Your  communication  is  very  important  indeed,  madam," 
6aid  the  General,  with  a  thoughtful  salute,  "  and  you  have  done 
the  South  good  service.  Now  you  must  be  fatigued.  I  beg  that 
you  will  repose  yourself." 

And,  summoning  an  old  dame,  the  owner  of  the  mansion,  the 
General  intrusted  Miss  Grafton  into  her  hands,  holding  open  the 
door,  and  again  saluting  with  profound  courtesy,  as  she  retired. 

"  I  believe  that  is  their  plan,"  I  heard  him  mutter;  "  yes,  the 
left !  Captain  Mordaunt,  let  us  examine  the  papers  brought  by 
your  scout,  once  more." 

In  the  midst  of  the  consultation  I  left  the  room,  and  sent  to 
request  a  few  minutes'  private  conversation  with  Miss  Grafton. 


XXXY. 

I   RETURN   THE   PACKAGE. 

My  object  was  to  return  the  package  which  had  been  so  mys- 
teriously deposited  in  my  pocket  at  the  house  in  the  Wilderness. 

For  more  than  two  months,  now,  I  had  constantly  carried  it 
about  with  me,  trusting  to  find  some  opportunity  to  return  it, 
but  none  had  presented  itself.  I  had  heard  of  no  one  travelling 
toward  the  Wilderness,  and  I  knew  of  no  post-office.  The  pack- 
age threatened  to  wear  out  in  my  pocket,  when  all  at  once 
chance  threw  me  once  more  with  Miss  Grafton,  and  I  could  rid 
myself  of  the  unpleasant  responsibility. 

To  my  request  for  a  brief  private  interview  she  gave  a  prompt 
assent,  and  in  a  few  moments  I  found  myself  alone  with  the 
young  lady,  in  a  plain  sitting-room,  lit  by  a  single  tallow  candle. 

"  I  am  afraid  I  am  keeping  you  from  your  rest,  Miss  Grafton," 
I  said,  "  but  I  trust  you  will  excuse  me.  I  expect  to  set  out  for 
the  Valley  in  half  an  hour,  and  am  anxious,  before  I  go,  to  ask 
your  assistance  in  an  affair  which  has  not  a  little  annoyed  me." 


124  SURRY  OF  EAGLE'S-NEST. 

I  then  explained  the  origin  of  the  package,  which  I  drew  from 
my  pocket,  and  stated  my  belief  that  it  belonged  to  the  white 
lady.  It  had  no  direction.  I  could  not  venture  to  open  it; 
would  Miss  Grafton  return  it,  or,  if  the  owner  teas  dead,  dispose 
of  it  in  such  manner  as  seemed  best  to  her  ? 

At  those  words,  "if  tbe  owner  is  dead,"  the  young  lady,  who 
had  listened  with  drooping  head,  suddenly  looked  up. 

"  I  see  you  know  all,"  she  said,  in  a  low  tone.  "  Yes,  the 
person  we  buried  the  other  night,  at  that  desolate  spot,  was  my 
poor  cousin — your  acquaintance,  sir,  in  the  Wilderness." 

"Poor  thing!" 

"  Yes,  she  was  truly  to  be  pitied.  Something  pressed  upon 
her  heart,  and  it  killed  her.  After  your  visit  she  did  not  leave 
her  bed,  and,  a  few  days  since,  she  died." 

Such  was  the  dry,  bare  statement  of  the  young  girl.  It  was 
plain  that  she  did  not  design  more  confidential  communica- 
tion. I  was  to  remain  in  ignorance  still  of  the  meaning  of  the 
strange  Hcene  at  the  Stone  House.  Between  the  impassive  cool- 
ness of  Mordaunt  and  the  gentle  reserve  of  my  companion,  my 
curiosity  threatened  to  be  crushed. 

"  And  you  really  believe  that  my  poor  cousin  placed  this  in 
your  pocket,  sir,"  said  the  young  lady,  pensively. 

"  I  am  sure  of  it,  Miss  Grafton." 

She  sighed  unconsciously,  and  glanced  at  the  worn  and  dis- 
colored envelope. 

"  '  Read  these  when  1  am  dead,  and  think  of  your  own  Fran- 
ces V  "  she  murmured.     "  Yes,  her  name  was  Frances." 

And,  as  she  gazed  at  the  delicate  handwriting  of  the  dead 
woman,  her  eyes  filled  with  tears. 

"  Captain  Surry,"  she  said,  passing  her  handkerchief  over  her 
eyes,  and  speaking  with  calm  sadness,  "  you  became  connected 
With  some  very  sorrowful  persons  by  stopping,  that  night,  in  the 
"Wilderness.  It  is  annoying — even  painful — to  me,  to  appear  to 
you  ever  surrounded  with  mystery — for  mystery  is  generally 
discreditable — but  I  cannot  help  it.  Some  day  you  may  know 
all.  Now  I  must  go  on  and  do  my  duty  as  I  can  not  speaking 
of  affairs  which  do  not  concern  me." 


I    RETURN    THE    PACKAGE.  125 

"  You  will  pardon  me,  Miss  Grafton,  for  asking  if  you  design 
returning  to  the  Wilderness." 

"  Never,  sir." 

"  Have  you  a  protector  ?" 

"None." 

"  You  pain  and  shock  me,"  was  my  earnest  reply.  "  "Who  will 
watch  over  and  guard  you  in  these  troubled  times?" 

"  God,  sir,"  was  the  calm  reply. 

I  looked  with  pity  and  admiration  at  the  beautiful  girl  who 
spoke  so  calmly.  There  was  something  inexpressibly  revolting 
in  the  idea  that  she  had  no  protector  from  Fenwick — actually  no 
roof  over  her  head.  Here  was  a  delicate  girl  of  seventeen, 
without  friends,  relatives,  or  home — and  yet  so  calm  and  confi- 
dent, that  you  felt  that  such  confidence  could  not  be  mis- 
placed ! 

I  begged  the  young  lady  to  accept  a  home  at  my  father's 
house,  but  she  declined. 

"  Where  was  she  going?" 

"  She  did  not  know." 

As  she  spoke,  a  knock  was  heard  at  the  door,  and  Mordaunt 
made  his  nppearance,  pale  and  gloomy. 

He  bowed  low,  and  said  with  freezing  coldness : 

"  I  shall  have  the  honor  to  conduct  Miss  Grafton,  as  soon  as 
she  has  rested,  to  a  place  of  safety.  This  house  may  be  exposed 
to  the  enemy's  fire  in  the  battle  about  to  be  fought,  and  General 
Beauregard  wishes  Miss  Grafton  to  proceed  to  the  rear." 

What  could  have  induced  Mordaunt,  the  cynical  woman- 
hater,  to  accept  such  a  commission?  I  vainly  puzzled  my  mind 
to  solve  the  question. 

Miss  Grafton  rose.  Her  perfect  calmness  had  not  altered  in 
the  least. 

"  I  do  not  feel  at  all  sleepy,  sir,"  she  said,  "and  am  ready  to 
set  out  whenever  you  wish." 

"I  will,  then,  order  Miss  Grafton's  horse,"  was  Mordannt's 
reply  in  the  same  cold  tone ;  and  with  another  inclination  he 
left  the  apartment. 

I  took  advantage  of  his  absence  to  utter  a  few  parting  words. 


126  SUEEY  OF  EAGLE'S-NEST. 

"  Your  fate  is  a  singular  one,"  I  said,  "to  be  thus  tossed  to 
and  fro  in  these  dangerous  times.     "Where  are  you  going  ?" 

"  I  do  not  know,"  was  her  calm  reply. 

"And  yet  you  are  not  disquieted?" 

"  Why  should  I  he,  sir  ?" 

"  You  do  not  know  Captain  Mordaunt — you  do  not  know 
whither  he  is  about  to  conduct  you — and  yet  you  are  perfectly 
composed!"  I  said,  with  a  sort  of  admiration.  "Allow  me  to 
say,  Miss  Grafton,  that  your  equanimity  is  something  wonder- 
ful." 

She  looked  at  me  with  her  large,  thoughtful  eyes  for  an 
instant,  and  replied  with  unmoved  cal  mness  : 

"  God  will  watch  over  me,  and  I  shall  find  friends." 

I  could  say  no  more.  In  presence  of  this  supreme  resigna- 
tion and  reliance  upon  a  higher  power  than  man's,  I  stood 
abashed. 

Mordaunt  entered. 

"  Miss  Grafton's  horse  is  at  the  door." 

"  I  am  ready,  sir." 

"  I  trust  Miss  Grafton  will  not  be  alarmed  by  the  darkness," 
he  said  with  grim  courtesy. 

"By  the  darkness,  sir?"  she  said. 

"  It  is  heavier  than  before,  madam." 

"  I  rode  by  myself  all  night,"  she  replied  simply. 

"  Miss  Grafton  may  rely  upon  my  exertions  to  make  her  ride 
as  agreeable  as  possible,"  came  from  Mordaunt  in  the  same  cold 
tone. 

"  I  am  sure  of  it,  sir,"  was  her  calm  reply,  as  she  gave  him  her 
hand  with  an  air  of  confiding  simplicity  which  struck  me. 

Something  like  a  slight  color  came  to  the  swarthy  cheeks  of 
Mordaunt  as  he  took  it  and  assisted  her  to  mount  at  the  door. 
He  then  got  into  the  saddle  and  took  Ids  place  at  her  side. 

I  exchanged  a  grasp  of  the  hand  with  him,  and  turning  to 
Miss  Grafton  : 

"  You  will  not  forget  me,  I  hope,  or  cease  to  remember  mo  as 
your  friend,"  I  said. 

"  I  ehall  gladly  think  of  you  as  such,"  was  her  reply,  with  a 


A    RIDE    IN    THE    DOG-DAYS.  127 

courteous  little  inclination  of  her  head.  And  leaning  down,  she 
said  in  a  low  tone,  as  her  horse  moved : 

"  I  think  I  have  discovered  for  whom  the  package  of  papers 
was  intended." 

A  glance  of  the  large  blue  eyes,  which  I  long  remembered — 
a  pressure  of  the  small  ungloved  hand — and  Violet  Grafton 
disappeared  with  her  escort  in  the  darkness. 


XXXVI. 

A   RIDE   IN  THE   DOG-DATS. 

I  hastened  back  to  General  Beauregard.  His  horse  was  at  the 
door,  and  he  was  preparing  to  mount.  In  his  measured  voice 
he  gave  me  my  last  instructions.  They  were,  to  return  as 
rapidly  as  possible  to  General  Johnston ;  inform  him  that  the 
Federal  army  was  advancing ;  and  urge  the  necessity  of  a 
prompt  junction  of  the  Army  of  the  Shenandoah  with  tbat  ef 
the  Potomac. 

"  The  enemy's  force  is  now  ascertained  to  be  about  fifty-five 
thousand  men,"  he  added  ;  "  mine  is  somewhat  less  than  twenty 
thousand  effective.  I  do  not  doubt  my  ability  to  hold  this 
position,  but  more  troops  are  necessary  for  ulterior  opera- 
tions." 

I  clearly  understood  this  allusion.  It  pointed  to  the  project- 
ed movement  of  Johnston's  force,  by  way  of  the  Little  River 
turnpike,  against  the  Federal  right  flank. 

"  Tbat  is  all,  I  believe,  Captain — the  dispatch  you  bear  will 
convey  the  rest.     Are  you  well  mounted  ?" 

"  Yes,  General." 

"  If  your  horse  fails,  impress  the  first  you  find.  Your  mes- 
sage must  arrive  to-day." 

"It  shall,  sir." 

General  Beauregard  gave  me  his  hand,  mounted,  and  set  off 
at  a  rapid  gallop  for  the  front,  followed  by  his  staff. 


128  SURRY  OF  EAGLE'S-NEST. 

In  ten  minutes  I  left  Manassas,  at  full  speed,  following  the 
road  to  Thoroughfare  Gap. 

The  first  light  of  dawn  glimmered  in  the  east  as  I  looked  in 
the  direction  of  the  Stone  House.  I  almost  fancied  I  could  see 
it — weird  and  desolate  in  the  dim  light.  "What  was  the  mystery, 
I  asked  myself,  hidden  beneath  the  sombre  curtain,  a  corner  of 
which  I  had  just  lifted?  What  tragedy  was  this  in  which  Mor- 
daunt,  Miss  Grafton,  Fenwick,  and  the  woman  Parkins  were 
all  mixed  up — and  what  had  that  lugubrious  stone  mansion  to 
do  with  the  history  of  all  these  lives  ? 

All  speculation  was  vain — I  pushed  on. 

My  roan  was  in  excellent  order,  and  moved  under  me  like  a 
bundle  of  steel  springs.  The  distance  I  had  to  go  was  only  about 
fifty  miles ;  I  expected  to  accomplish  it  in  six  hours.  But  I  had 
not  calculated  upon  the  oppressive  heat  of  the  weather. 

Passing  through  Thoroughfare  Gap,  I  reached  White  Plains 
soon  after  sunrise,  and  then,  leaving  the  main  road  to  Salem, 
struck  across  towai'd  Kectortown  and  Paris. 

The  sun  became  burning  hot,  and  my  roan  was  as  wet  as  if  he 
had  just  swum  a  river.  His  speed  was  undiminished,  however; 
and,  finally,  the  Blue  Ridge  drew  near. 

At  Paris  there  was  a  group  of  loungers  upon  the  tavern  porch. 

"What  news?"  they  shouted,  as  I  passed  at  full  gallop. 

"Nothing,"  I  replied. 

As  1  left  the  town,  I  heard  a  Dutch-looking  farmer  say  : 

"  That  officer  is  riding  his  horse  to  death." 

It  was  true.  Going  up  the  mountain,  my  roan  began  to  toss 
his  head  and  wheeze  :  I  allowed  him  for  the  first  time  to  walk, 
and  thus  reached  the  "Big  Poplar,"  but  there  I  resumed  the 
gallop. 

Two  miles  further  I  forded  the  Shenandoah,  looking  with  cov- 
etous eyes  upon  the  cool  green  turf  of  the  banks,  shaded  by  the 
giant  sycamores  reaching  their  mottled  arms  over  the  current. 

The  cool  bath  and  long  draught  of  the  fresh  water  gave  my 
horse  new  life  ;  but  the  scorching  sun  poured  down  all  the  hotter 
as  we  entered  again  upon  the  interminable,  blazing  turnpike.  The 
heat  seemed  to  descend — to  rise  from  the  earth  in  quivering 


THE    FLANK    MOVEMENT.  129 

steam — and  the  very  puffs  of  air  which  came  at  times  resembled 
the  breath  of  a  furnace.  The  dust  filled  the  air,  motionless  as 
fog;  the  minute  particles  burned  the  face  and  choked  the  throat. 

Beyond  Millwood  my  horse  began  to  stagger.  His  jaws  were 
reeking  with  foam,  his  eyes  glaring  and  bloodshot. 

Pressing  him  steadily  with  the  spur,  I  reached  and  passed  the 
Opequon,  came  in  sight  of  Winchester,  and  saw  across  the  fields 
General  Johnston's  head-quarters  tent. 

A  hundred  yards  from  it  my  roan  reeled  and  fell.  I  saw  Gen- 
eral Johnston  in  his  tent,  and  hastened  to  him. 

"Ah!  Captain,"  he  said,  "what  news?  Are  you  from  Ma- 
nassas to-day  ?     It  is  not  possible !" 

"  To-day,  General :  the  news  is  important.  The  enemy  are 
advancing.     By  this  time  they  are  not  far  from  Bull  Run." 

"  And  General  Beauregard  ?" — 

"  Says,  if  you  wish  to  help  him,  now  is  the  time." 

And  I  handed  him  the  dispatch. 

Johnston  read  it,  asked  me  a  few  questions,  and  then  sum- 
moned his  adjutant-general. 

"  Any  thing  further,  General?" 

"Nothing,  Captain.     Thanks  for  your  promptness." 

I  saluted  and  went  to  look  after  my  horse. 

He  was  dead.* 


XXXVII. 

THE  FLANK  MOVEMENT. 

I  had  arrived  at  the  crisis.  Patterson  was  extending  his  left 
to  cut  Johnston  off  from  Ashby's  Gap,  and  in  twelve  hours  the 
Confederate  General  would  have  found  it  impossible  to  evacuate 
the  Valley  without  a  battle,  if  at  all. 

Those  twelve  hours  I  had  gained  by  killing  my  horse. 

Rapid  arrangements  were  made  to  move  through  Ashby's  Gap, 
and  in  a  very  few  hours  the  whole  army  was  in  motion. 

*  A  true  incident. 
6* 


130  SURRY  OF  EAGLE'S-NEST. 

Stuart  picketed  the  rear  so  admirably  from  toward  Bunker 
Hill,  by  Smithfield,  to  Rippon  and  the  Shenandoah,  that  a  mouse 
could  not  get  through  ;  and,  safely  moving  within  this  magic  cor- 
don, which  kept  off  all  intruders,  Johnston's  column  left  Win- 
chester, passed  through  Millwood,  forded  the  Shenandoah  at  Ber- 
ry's Ferry,  and  defiled  through  the  Gap. 

The  men  were  crazy  with  delight,  singing  and  dancing  as  they 
went  along.     The  prospect  of  a  battle  seemed  to  intoxicate  them. 

Stuart  brought  up  the  rear,  passing  last  through  the  Gap ;  and 
then  pushed  on  to  the  front. 

The  movement  by  the  Little  River  turnpike  was  found  imprac- 
ticable, and  at  Piedmont  Station,  on  the  Manassas  Gap  Railroad, 
the  bulk  of  the  infantry  took  the  cars ;  the  rest  were  to  follow. 
Jackson's  brigade  went  by  the  first  train  ;  we  disembarked  in  the 
evening  at  Manassas,  and  the  column  was  marched  to  a  wood  of 
pines  in  rear  of  Mitchell's  Ford. 

The  roar  of  artillery  which  greeted  us  as  we  approached  indi- 
cated that  the  adversaries  were  face  to  face,  and  the  decisive 
struggle  about  to  begin. 


XXXVIII. 

TWO    BROTHERS. 

Shall  I  tell  you,  my  dear  reader,  what  I  saw  of  the  battle  of 
Manassas?  It  possesses  a  perennial  interest;  but  then  it  is  so 
familiar !  Still  I  can't  well  omit  some  notice  of  it  in  these  me- 
moirs of  my  times.  Those  who  know  it  all  by  heart  can  turn  the 
leaf. 

It  was  about  three  in  the  morning,  on  the  famous  21st,  that  I 
was  waked  by  General  Jackson  as  I  lay  under  a  tree,  and  sent 
with  a  message  to  General  Johnston. 

Your  toilet  is  not  a  heavy  affair  on  the  eve  of  a  battle :  I  had 
only  to  take  my  riding-cape,  buckle  on  my  belt,  and  rub  my  eyes. 
Then  I  mounted,  and  set  out  for  the  farm-house  where  Johnston 
and  Beauregard  had  established  their  joint  head-quarters. 


TWO    BROTHERS.  131 

The  place  was  in  a  great  bustle.  To  the  fences  and  the  boughs 
of  the  trees  were  affixed  the  horses  of  the  staff  and  couriers., 
ready  saddled ;  and  mounted  men  constantly  went  and  came.  A 
sullen  gun,  at  intervals,  from  the  front,  mingled  with  the  clatter 
of  sabres  and  the  sound  of  horses'  hoofs. 

The  two  Generals  were  closeted  in  an  inner  room.  My  name 
was  sent  in,  and  in  ten  minutes  I  was  informed  that  I  could 
enter. 

Generals  Johnston  and  Beauregard  were  seated  at  a  table,  upon 
wiiich  was  spread  a  topographical  map  of  the  region,  and  the 
former  rested  Ins  finger  upon  Stoneb ridge. 

"  This  is  the  key  of  the  position,"  he  said.  "I  think  the  at- 
tack will  be  here,  General." 

I  saluted,  and  wras  about  to  deliver  my  message,  when  a  dis- 
patch was  brought  in.     Beauregard  read  it  with  attention. 

"  The  enemy  are  moving  in  heavy  force  to  the  left,"  he  said, 
in  a  low  tone.  "  Captain  Mordaunt's  scouts  report  the  main  body 
massing  between  Centreville  and  Stonebridge." 

As  he  spoke  his  face  glowed. 

"Now  is  the  time,  General,"  he  said.  "Ewell  and  Bonham 
can  strike  their  flank  and  rear  before  sunrise." 

Johnston  inclined  his  head. 

"  Then,  no  time  is  to  be  lost,  General." 

This  was  the  authorization  for  which  Beauregard  evidently 
waited.  In  an  instant  he  had  ordered  couriers,  and  was  ardently 
dictating  orders  to  his  adjutant.  I  could  not  help  hearing  them. 
The  orders  directed  the  officers  commanding  the  right  and  centre 
to  hold  themselves  ready  to  advance  at  a  moment's  notice,  and 
attack  the  Federal  rear  at  Centreville. 

Meanwhile,  I  had  delivered  my  message,  which  referred  to  the 
disposition  of  the  artillery,  and,  receiving  the  orders  of  General 
Johnston,  hastened  to  return.  I  had  scarcely  reached  camp,  and 
communicated  the  result  of  my  mission,  when  the  roar  of  artil- 
lery was  heard  from  the  direction  of  Stonebridge ;  and  Jackson 
ordered  his  brigade  to  be  gotten  under  arms. 

Orders  soon  came  for  him  to  move  and  re-enforce  Longstreet, 
at  Blackburn's  Ford,  below.     Before  the  troops  had  reached  that 


132  SURRY    OF    EAGLE'S-NEST. 

point,  new  orders  arrived,  directing  him  to  go  to  the  assistance 
of  General  Cocke,  near  Stonebridge.  As  the  column  approached 
this  point  the  sun  rose,  and  from  the  extensive  plateau  in  front 
came  the  sharp  crack  of  musketry.  The  roar  of  artillery  from 
beyond  the  stream  had  continued  steadily. 

"  This  must  be  only  a  demonstration,"  muttered  Jackson, 
and,  turning  round,  he  directed  me  to  ride  toward  Sudley  Ford, 
and  ascertain  if  any  movement  was  taking  place  in  that  direc- 
tion. 

I  hastened  to  obey,  and,  striking  across  into  the  Sudley-Brents- 
ville  road,  was  soon  at  the  ford,  where  I  found  Mordaunt  sullenly 
falling  back,  and  disputing  the  ground  inch  by  inch,  with  an  over- 
whelming column  advancing  rapidly  from  the  woods  beyond.  As 
I  joined  him,  a  storm  of  bullets  came  hissing  from  a  dark  line 
rapidly  advancing,  and  a  portion  of  the  cavalry  came  back  at  a 
gallop.  Mordaunt's  face  flushed  hot,  and,  drawing  his  sabre,  he 
thundered : 

"  I  will  kill  the  first  man  who  attempts  to  pass  me !  Form  line. 
I  am  falling  back — I  am  not  running!" 

His  voice  had  its  effect ;  line  was  formed  facing  the  enemy, 
and  the  men  slowly  fell  back  fighting. 

"Well,  Surry,"  said  Mordaunt,  with  entire  coolness,  "things 
are  going  on  badly  in  this  part  of  the  field,  and,  unless  General 
Beauregard  hurries  troops  here,  he  will  be  flanked  and  driven  out 
of  his  defences  on  Manassas.  There  is  nothing  to  check  the 
enemy.  I  will  die  here,  if  necessary ;  but  it  is  perfectly  useless. 
What  can  I  do  with  one  company  ?  That  column  advancing 
numbers  at  least  thirty  thousand.  I  have  sent  courier  after 
courier,  but  yet  no  reply." 

"  I  will  see  that  General  Johnston  knows  the  extent  of  the 
danger."     And  I  went  back  rapidly  to  report  it. 

Reaching  Colonel  Evans  first,  near  Stonebridge,  I  informed 
him  of  the  state  of  affairs,  and  he  instantly  put  his  command — 
about  one  regiment — in  motion,  and  advanced  to  check  the 
enemy. 

Then  I  found  General  Jackson,  and  gave  him  the  intelligence. 
He  at  once  sent  a  staff  officer,  on  a  fresh  horse,  to  Johnston ; 


TWO    BROTHERS.  133 

and  at  that  moment  a  long  roar  of  musketry  beyond  the  hill  an- 
nounced that  Evans  had  engaged  the  enemy. 

It  steadily  increased  in  intensity,  hut  did  not  recede  or  ap- 
proach. Evans  was  evidently  holding  his  ground.  In  an  hour, 
however,  it  drew  nearer,  and  the  meaning  of  this  was  unmistak- 
able. Then  all  at  once  the  glitter  of  bayonets  was  seen  behind 
us,  and  Bee  and  Bartow  appeared,  rapidly  moving  to  the  threat- 
ened point. 

The  troops  pressed  on  with  cheers — they  were  seen  to  form 
line  of  battle  on  the  Henry  House  hill — then  they  disappeared 
beneath  the  crest,  and  the  redoubled  roar  of  musketry  told  that 
Bee  had  engaged  the  enemy. 

The  firing  from  that  moment  became  incessant,  and  indicated 
a  desperate  conflict.  It  continued  for  more  than  an  hour.  Then 
it  rapidly  approached,  and  the  cheers  of  the  Federal  troops 
echoed  among  the  hills.     Bee  was  evidently  falling  back. 

Jackson  listened  with  an  unmoved  countenance,  but  a  glitter 
of  the  eye,  which  indicated  much  in  him.  All  at  once  the  roar 
of  triumph  drew  nearer — Bee's  men  began  to  appear,  straggling 
over  the  hill. 

"Attention!"  came  in  Jackson's  curt  tones,  and  the  men, 
who  had  been  lying  down,  rose  to  their  feet  and  formed  line  of 
battle. 

"  Ride  to  General  Bee,  Captain,  and  inform  him  I  am  coming 
tore-enforce  him,"  said  Jackson. 

And  I  hastened,  at  a  gallop,  toward  the  firing.  A  regiment 
was  forming  line  of  battle  along  the  Warrenton  road,  just  to  the 
right  of  the  Stone  House. 

"What  command  is  this?"  I  asked  of  one  of  the  men. 

"  The  Hampton  Legion." 

"What  number?" 

"  Six  hundred  muskets." 

I  rode  on  rapidly,  passing  hundreds  of  stragglers.  The  roar 
of  guns  was  now  near  at  hand — incessant,  obstinate;  and  Bee 
was  falling  back  in  utter  confusion.  His  broken  lines  were  torn 
by  shell,  canister,  and  musketry — the  struggle  was  over — the 
triumphant  enemy  were  pressing  forward  with  wild  cheers. 


134  SURRY    OF    EAGLE'S-NEST. 

Suddenly,  I  heard  the  sharp  crack  of  Hampton's  skirmishers 
on  the  right,  and  Bee  rode  up,  breathing  heavily,  covered  with 
dust  and  sweat,  and  holding  in  his  hand  his  drawn  sword,  with 
which  he  had  been  rallying  his  men.  I  knew  him  very  well,  and 
at  once  delivered  my  message. 

"  Thank  God  !"  he  replied,  hoarsely.  "They  have  broken  my 
line  to  pieces — by  pure  weight  of  numbers.  Men  never  fought 
better.     "What  troops  are  those,  Captain,  in  the  road,  yonder?" 

"  The  Hampton  Legion." 

"  Oblige  me  by  telling  Colonel  Hampton  he  must  hold  his 
position  until  entirely  flanked — to  the  very  last." 

I  obeyed,  and  reached  Hampton  just  as  a  heavy  column  pressed 
down  from  the  direction  of  Red  House  Ford  and  opened  fire 
upon  him. 

"  Present  my  respects  to  General  Bee,"  said  Colonel  Hampton, 
a  tall  and  fine-looking  man,  with  an  air  of  entire  coolness,  "  and 
tell  him  that  I  hope  to  give  a  good  account  of  the  force  in  my 
front.  This  position  will  soon  be  flanked,  however,  and  I  shall 
be  compelled  to  fall  back." 

A  volley  from  the  enemy  came  as  he  spoke,  and  he  ordered  his 
men  to  rise  and  fire. 

The  effect  was  decisive.  The  six  hundred  muskets  were  dis- 
charged almost  like  a  single  piece,  and  the  Federal  line  in  front 
broke,  and  retreated  under  cover  of  the  high  ground  in  their 
rear. 

I  hastened  back,  and  found  Bee  making  desperate  efforts  to 
rally  his  men.  Sword  in  hand,  he  rode  among  them,  beseeching 
them  by  all  they  held  dear  to  re-form  their  line.  His  voice  was 
scarcely  heard  in  the  roar  of  battle,  and  the  enemy  pressed  on, 
driving  the  Southern  lines  back  in  utter  disorder. 

Finally,  they  reached  the  ground  near  the  Stone  House  I  had 
visited  with  Mordaunt,  and  jdanted  their  artillery  in  the  road, 
forcing  Hampton  to  fall  back.  Then  there  was  nothing  further 
to  resist  their  advance,  and  Bee,  with  a  look  of  despair,  galloped 
in  the  direction  of  Jackson.  I  was  with  him,  and  heard  the 
brave  Carolinian  groan  out,  as  they  came  face  to  face : 

"General,  they  are  beating  us  back !" 


TWO    BROTHERS.  135 

Jackson  looked  for  an  instant  toward  the  enemy,  bis  lips 
moved,  and  lie  said,  coolly : 

"  Sir,  we  will  give  them  the  bayonet." 

Bee  seemed  to  gather  new  resolution  from  these  words,  and, 
galloping  toward  his  straggling  lines,  shouted  : 

"  Look !  Yonder  stands  Jackson,  like  a  stone  wall.  Let  us 
determine  to  die  here,  and  we  will  conquer!" 

Jackson  had,  meanwhile,  turned  to  me,  and  said,  witli  his  hab- 
itual coolness : 

"  Captain,  go  to  the  colonels  of  all  my  regiments,  and  tell 
them  that  my  instructions  are,  as  soon  as  the  enemy  gets 
close  enough,  say  within  fifty  yards,  to  charge  with  the  bay- 
onet."* 

This  order  I  conveyed  to  the  different  colonels,  as  they  formed 
their  lines  along  the  eastern  crest  of  the  Henry  House  hill.  The 
men  were  ordered  to  lie  down,  two  pieces  of  artillery  were 
thrown  forward  and  opened  fire,  and  under  their  protection 
Bee  formed  his  shattered  line  in  a  ravine  on  Jackson's  right. 

In  face  of  this  new  line  of  battle  the  enemy  did  not  imme- 
diately advance.     They  were  checked,  and  the  day  was  saved. 

I  was  looking  across  the  hills  to  the  left,  where  Mordaunt's 
cavalry  was  seen  falling  back  to  take  position  on  the  flank,  when 
Jackson  called  me  and  said : 

"  General  Johnston  must  know  exactly  the  condition  of  things 
here.  Present  my  compliments  to  him,  and  tell  him  that  the 
enemy  are  checked,  but  I  must  have  re-enforcements.  If  this 
hill  is  lost,  all  is  lost.  I  am  going  to  seize  and  hold  it ;  but  I 
must  be  supported.  Bee  is  overwhelmed.  Hampton  is  driven 
back.  If  the  enemy  fortify  yonder,  all  is  over.  Explain  this, 
and  lose  no  time." 

In  half  an  hour  I  was  at  Johnston's  head-quarters,  still  at  the 
farm-house  opposite  Mitchell's  Ford.  He  and  Beauregard  were 
in  the  saddle,  anxiously  listening  to  the  continuous  fire  from  the 
left. 

"  Well,  Captain,"  came  from  Beauregard,  the  more  ardent  of 
the  two. 

*  His  •rderg. 


136  SURRY    OF    EAGLE'S-NEST. 

I  saluted,  and  explained  the  state  of  things  near  Stone- 
bridge.  It  evidently  produced  a  deep  impression  upon  both 
officers. 

"All  now  depends  upon  the  movement  of  the  right  and 
centre,"  muttered  Beauregard,  looking  in  the  direction  of  Centre- 
ville.      "  Why  don't  the  firing  commence  ?" 

"I  fear  it  is  too  late,"  was  Johnston's  cool  reply. 

At  the  same  moment,  a  staff-officer  came  up,  his  horse  foam- 
ing. 

"Well,  Major?"  exclaimed  Beauregard. 

"General  Ewell  never  received  your  order,  sir,  and  General 
Bonham  only  just  now." 

Beauregard  made  a  gesture  in  which  it  was  impossible  to  say 
whether  anger  or  disappointment  predominated. 

"  We'must  fight  it  out  on  the  left,"  said  Johnston.  "  Counter- 
mand the  orders  to  Ewell  and  Bonham,  General,  and  let  us  ride 
to  where  the  fight  is  going  on." 

In  five  minutes,  the  two  generals  were  proceeding  at  full  gal- 
lop toward  the  scene  of  action. 

They  arrived  at  the  moment  when  the  enemy  had  gained  pos- 
session of  the  Henry  House  hill,  and  were  pressing  forward  to  at- 
tack Jackson,  whose  two  pieces  of  artillery  were  steadily  firing  in 
front  of  his  line. 

The  attention  of  the  two  generals  was  immediately  turned  to 
the  disordered  ranks  of  Bee.  Johnston  seized  the  colors  of  a 
Southern  regiment,  and,  leading  the  men  forward,  re-formed  their 
line  in  face  of  a  heavy  fire.  Beauregard  meanwhile  galloped  up 
and  down  the  lines,  his  swarthy  face  glowing,  his  eyes  flashing, 
his  sonorous  voice  calling  upon  the  men  to  stand  their  ground, 
lie  presented  at  this  moment  a  splendid  picture.  The  fire  of  the 
horn  soldier  flamed  in  his  regard,  and  his  martial  spirit  rode,  as 
it  were,  upon  the  wave  of  battle,  rejoicing  in  the  storm. 

Under  the  passionate  appeals  of  the  two  commanders,  the  men 
speedily  rallied,  and  line  of  battle  was  at  once  formed.  Other 
regiments  and  additional  artillery  had  hurried  forward,  and, 
thanks  to  the  bold  stand  made  by  Jackson,  time  had  been  given 
for  something  like  an  adequate  force  to  arrive.     It  amounted,  as 


TWO    BROTHERS.  137 

I  afterward  discovered,  to  only  about  six  or  seven  thousand  men ; 
but  this  was  enough  to  show  fight  until  re-euforceinents  came. 

The  enemy  had  now  formed  a  long  and  heavy  line  of  battle, 
upon  the  Henry  House  hill,  and  their  artillery  crowned  every 
knoll.  They  continued  to  pour  a  heavy  firo  of  all  arms  upon  the 
Southern  line,  and  the  only  response  was  from  two  or  three  bat- 
teries, under  Colonel  Pendleton,  in  Jackson's  immediate  front. 
These  were  just  under  the  crest,  and  engaged  the  Federal  batte- 
ries at  close  range. 

Jackson  was  riding  up  and  down  behind  them,  watching  the 
fire. 

"  I  expect  these  boys  will  all  be  killed,"  he  muttered ;  "  but 
the  occasion  demands  the  sacrifice." 

As  he  spoke,  a  fragment  of  shell  struck  him  in  the  hand,  and 
I  saw  the  blood  flow. 

"You  are  hurt,  General,"  I  exclaimed. 

"  It  is  nothing,"  he  said,  wrapping  his  handkerchief  around  it ; 
and,  seeing  that  the  attention  of  the  men  had  been  called  to  it, 
he  rode  up  and  down  the  line,  repeating  quietly,  "Steady,  boys, 
steady!  all's  well!" 

The  fire  now  became  very  heavy,  and  the  enemy  were  steadily 
advancing.  All  at  once  an  officer  galloped  up,  and  said,  in  great 
agitation : 

"  General,  the  day  is  going  against  us." 

Such  things  peculiarly  displeased  Jackson.  He  gave  the  offi- 
cer a  quick  glance  from  beneath  his  old  faded  cap — such  a  glance 
as  I  for  one  should  not  have  liked  to  encounter — and  said,  in  his 
curtest  and  gruffest  tones  : 

"  If  you  think  so,  sir,  you  had  better  say  nothing  about  it !'' 

The  officer  turned  away,  with  a  sudden  flush  upon  his  coun- 
tenance. At  the  same  moment,  a  loud  cheer  on  the  left  attracted 
our  attention,  and  we  saw  Colonel  Cumming,  commanding  one 
of  the  regiments  of  the  brigade,  charge  and  capture  a  Federal 
battery. 

Jackson's  face  glowed,  and  he  uttered  an  exclamation  which 
proved  that  all  the  soldier  was  aroused  in  him.  But  the  triumph 
was  short-lived.     Cumming  could  not  hold  the  battery  in  face  of 


138  SURRY    OF    EAG-LE'S-NEST. 

the  withering  fire  directed  upon  him,  and  we  saw  him  slowly  fall 
hack,  as  the  enemy's  whole  line  swept  forward. 

It  was  at  this  moment  that  I  discerned  for  the  first  time  in 
Jackson  the  supreme  attributes  of  the  man  of  military  genius. 
He  seemed  to  rise  under  pressure,  and  to  grow  cooler  and  more 
invincible  as  peril  drew  near.  The  air  was  full  of  balls,  the  whole 
scene  was  one  glare  of  musketry  and  cannon,  and  on  all  sides 
were  heard  groans,  cheers,  and  shouts  of  triumph  or  despair ;  hut 
it  was  impossible  to  discern  upon  his  face  any  traces  whatever  of 
emotion.  It  was  like  a  mask  of  bronze ;  and  his  movements  were 
as  calm  and  measured  as  if  upon  parade.  In  thr.ee.  minutes  now 
the  shock  must  come,  I  saw  plainly ;  but  Jackson  appeared  as 
indifferent  as  though  perfectly  certain  of  the  result. 

The  long,  dark  line  pressed  on,  blazing  from  end  to  end,  and 
the  artillery  was  withdrawn  at  a  gallop.  It  passed  around  the 
right  of  the  line,  and  then  I  knew  that  the  moment  had  come  for 
the  decisive  struggle. 

Rushing  forward  with  triumphant  cheers,  the  Federal  line  was 
within  about  seventy-five  yards,  when  I  heard  Jackson  command, 
"  Charge  with  the  bayonet !" 

The  men  responded  with  the  wildest  ardor,  delivered  a  stag- 
gering volley  as  they  rose  to  their  feet,  and  then  rushed  up  the 
slope. 

This  movement  was  executed  with  such  suddenness  and  deter- 
mination, that  the  Federal  line  recoiled  and  gave  way  as  the 
Southerners  dashed  upon  them.  The  fire  which  greeted  them 
was  frightful,  but  the  charge  was  not  checked ;  and  in  five  min- 
utes Jackson  had  pierced  the  Federal  centre,  and  his  troops  were 
fighting  on  the  ground  near  the  Henry  House. 

The  men  never  fought  better ;  and,  as  one  after  another  fell, 
the  ranks  closed  up,  and  the  troops  kept  to  their  work  like  vet- 
erans instead  of  recruits.  The  boys  were  even  more  ardent  than 
the  men ;  and,  as  I  was  carrying  an  order  to  the  right,  I  heard  the 
voice  of  young  Charley  Beverley,  with  whom  I  had  become  well 
acquainted,  though  I  have  not  before  mentioned  the  fact,  call  out 
to  me  in  great  glee  : 

"  Look,  Captain,  look!     "We  are  driving  'em  !" 


TWO    BEOTHEES, 


139 


The  young  fellow  fired  his  musket  as  he  spoke ;  but  the  next 
moment  I  heard  him  utter  a  groan,  and  saw  him  stagger. 

"What's  the  matter,  Charley?" 

"  Only  a  scratch,"  he  replied,  turning  pale,  and  trying  to  smile. 
I  had  just  time  to  throw  myself  from  my  horse  and  catch  him  in 
my  arms  before  he  fell.     He  had  been  shot  through  the  arm. 

Two  men  whom  I  called  carried  him  to  the  rear.  I  had  no 
time  to  attend  to  him  further.  Eemounting  my  horse,  I  hastened 
to  find  Colonel  Hampton,  near  the  Henry  House.  As  I  went  on, 
some  men  were  bearing  off  General  Bee.  I  had  no  time  to  speak 
to  the  mortally  wounded  officer ;  but  I  heard  him,  as  I  passed, 
murmur,  "  Tell  my  men  not  to  give  up  the  field !" 

Colonel  Hampton  was  rushing  forward  at  the  head  of  his  men, 
when,  just  as  I  reached  him,  he  was  struck  and  fell.  The  great 
Carolinian  attempted  to  rise,  but  strength  failed  him,  and,  waving 
his  sword  for  his  line  to  press  on,  he  was  borne  from  the  field. 

At  the  same  moment  I  felt  my  horse  stagger — then  he  fell.  A 
ball  had  pierced  his  chest,  and  I  found  myself  on  foot.  The  close 
roar  of  musketry  drowned  every  other  sound,  and  officers  and 
men  were  falling  all  around  me. 

All  at  once  I  saw,  not  far  from  me,  one  of  the  companies  of  the 
brigade  which  was  entirely  unofficered,  and  began  to  waver. 
I  ran  in  the  direction  of  it,  and  found  the  men  only  wanted 
some  one  to  lead  them.  At  a  word  they  closed  up,  and 
advanced  unbroken,  on  the  Federal  line,  then  rapidly  pushing 
forward. 

So  close  were  the  opposing  lines  at  this  critical  moment,  that, 
in  spite  of  the  dense  smoke,  I  could  see  almost  the  "  whites  of 
their  eyes."  Suddenly  a  chill,  like  that  of  death,  passed  through 
my  frame,  and  my  blood  ran  cold :  in  the  officer  leading  a  com- 
pany of  Federal  infantry  directly  in  front  of  me,  I  recognized  my 
younger  brother  Will. 

He  was  on  foot  in  front  of  the  line,  waving  his  sword  and 
cheering  wildly.  All  at  once,  as  the  smoke  drifted,  his  eyes  en- 
countered my  own;  and  I  saw,  in  an  instant,  that  be  had  recog- 
nized me. 

He  turned  pale,  and  his  sword  sank.     The  cry  died  away  on 


140  SURRY    OF    EAGLE'S-NEST. 

his  lips.  At  that  instant,  I  felt  a  sharp  pain  in  my  breast,  and 
a  sort  of  cloud  passed  before  my  eyes.  "When  I  opened  them,  I 
saw  that  the  Federal  line  had  swept  past  me,  driving  back  the 
company  I  had  commanded ;  and  bending  over  me  I  saw  the  pale 
face  of  my  brother.  He  supported  my  head  upon  his  shoulder, 
and  with  his  right  hand  was  holding  a  white  handkerchief  to  my 
breast,  which  was  bleeding  profusely. 

"Brother!"  exclaimed  the  boy,  for  he  was  hardly  more,  "God 
forgive  me ! — you  are  shot — mortally  wounded — and  by  my  own 
men!" 

I  tried  to  smile. 

"I'm  afraid  they've  done  for  me,  Will,"  was  all  I  could  say, 
for  the  faint  feeling  came  back,  and  my  voice  died  away. 

"  How  could  I  know !— to  think  that  we  should  meet  thus  !— 
to  kill  you,  brother,"  he  used  my  old  name,  "  when  I  love  you 
more  than  the  whole  world! — when  I  would  die  for  you  !" 

And  I  heard  a  choking  sob,  mingled  with  a  groan,  as,  straining 
me  close  to  his  bosom,  he  pressed  to  my  cheek  his  face  wet  with 
tears. 

Strange  meeting  of  two  brothers  after  years  of  separation! 
But  the  interview  quickly  terminated.  The  battle  had  roared  on, 
and  the  storm  of  balls  swept  over  us,  as,  thus  lost  in  the  bloody 
gulf  of  conflict,  we  had  spoken  with  the  old  love  and  tenderness 
to  each  other.  Now  we  were  to  be  torn  asunder  again.  The 
Federal  line,  which  had  advanced  triumphantly  a  moment  before, 
was  now  driven  back.  The  long  crash  of  musketry  from  Jack- 
son's line  filled  the  air;  and  suddenly  my  brother's  company 
was  seen  retreating  in  disorder. 

He  wrung  his  hands,  and  uttered  a  sob  of  agony. 

"What  can  I  do,  brother!"  he  exclaimed.  "If  I  stay  here,  I 
am  a  prisoner— worse  still,  disgraced !  But  I  would  rather  die 
than  leave  you  dying  here!" 

I  rose  upon  one  arm  and  pointed  to  his  men. 

"  Go,  Will,"  I  said ;  "  a  Surry  can't  desert  his  colors.  It's  not 
your  fault  that  I  am  shot.  Go! — in  a  moment  you  will  be  a 
prisoner!" 

A  sort  of  convulsion  passed  over  the  youthful  face,  and  his 


ELM    COTTAGE    AND    ITS    INMATES.     141 

bosom  shook.     He  enclosed  me  in  his  arms,  and  kissed  me  as  he 
had  done  when  we  were  children. 

"You  are  right,  brother,"  he  said,  gloomily.  "Farewell!  I 
am  going  yonder  to  die!" 

"With  these  words  he  left  me,  and  his  figure  disappeared  amid 
the  smoke. 

All  that  I  remember  after  this  was  a  frightful  commingling 
of  cheers,  yells,  groans,  and  dying  cries,  over  which  rose  the 
heavy  roar  of  artillery  and  the  long,  deafening  roll  of  musketry. 
For  nearly  an  hour,  the  opposing  lines  seemed  staggering  to  and 
fro  on  the  extensive  plateau,  in  a  breast-to-breast  struggle  for  its 
possession.  All  that  I  could  make  out  distinctly  was,  that  the 
Southern  lines  still  held  their  ground. 

Then  a  quicker  and  heavier  fire  came  from  the  flanks;  it  ad- 
vanced ;  wild  cheers  rose  from  the  men  of  Jackson  near,  and  I 
knew  that  our  re-enforcements  had  arrived,  and  that  the  enemy 
were  giving  way.  The  roar  around  me  redoubled,  and  all  the 
furies  seemed  to  be  let  loose.  It  was  no  longer  a  battle,  but  a 
sort  of  Pandemonium.  But  the  wild  turmoil  of  battle  steadily 
receded  westward ;  the  Southern  lines  were  seen  sweeping  for- 
ward like  a  huge  wave ;  and  then  I  knew  that  the  Federal  line 
of  battle  was  broken  from  end  to  end  of  the  great  field. 

I  half  rose,  and,  clutching  the  bloody  handkerchief  which  "Will 
had  dropped,  tried  to  wave  it  above  me  and  cheer. 

As  I  did  so,  the  blood  gushed  over  my  bosom — a  cloud  passed 
before  my  eyes,  and,  falling  heavily  back,  I  lost  consciousness. 

That  is  all  I  remember,  my  dear  reader,  of  this  famous  battle. 


XXXIX. 

ELM   COTTAGE   AND   ITS   INMATES. 

I  had  afterward  a  faint  recollection  of  being  lifted  in  the 
arms  of  some  one,  and  then  of  travelling  somewhere  in  a  carriage, 
and  being  carried  into  a  house  through  a  porch  covered  with 
flowers.     I  thought  it  was  all  a  dream  when  I  saw  bending 


142  SURRY    OF    EAGLE'S-NEST. 

over  me,  with  flushed  cheeks,  a  figure  which  resembled  that  of 
May  Beverley. 

It  was  that  young  lady  in  person.  Not  to  weary  you  with 
long  explanations,  my  dear  reader,  I  was  at  Elm  Cottage,  near 
White  Plains,  a  small  vine-embowered  mansion  belonging  to  Mrs. 
Fitzhugh,  an  excellent  old  lady,  and  a  sister  of  Mrs.  Beverley, 
of  The  Oaks.  The  entire  family  from  The  Oaks  had  come  down 
to  be  near  Charley,  in  case  he  was  wounded  in  the  battle  about 
to  be  fought ;  the  Colonel  had  speedily  discovered  him,  and  the 
youth  had  been  promptly  moved.  As  the  carriage  was  leaving 
the  field,  Charley  saw  me  lying  beneath  the  tree  to  which  I  had 
been  carried,  cried  out  that  I  had  been  his  friend,  and  no  urging 
was  necessary  to  induce  the  old  Colonel  to  take  charge  of  me.  So 
I  was  to  be  nursed  by  the  gentle  hands  of  women,  and  not  by 
"detailed  men1'  in  a  hospital. 

I  am  not  going  to  bore  the  reader  with  my  experiences  of  the 
effect  of  a  gunshot  wound.  Everybody,  including  the  surgeon 
who  attended  me,  thought  I  would  certainly  die,  but  I  did  not. 
I  had  a  burning  fever,  and,  I  have  no  doubt,  got  at  one  time  to 
the  very  brink  of  the  grave — but  there  the  clutch  of  the  Death 
Angel  relaxed.     My  wound  began  to  heal. 

There  were  some  incidents  connected  with  this  fever,  however, 
which  were  far  from  unpleasant.  I  could  not  for  the  life  of  me 
determine,  at  the  moment,  whether  I  dreamed  them  or  they 
actually  occurred. 

The  figure  of  May  Beverley  haunted  me,  and  I  thought  that  she 
was  almost  constantly  sitting  by  my  bed,  holding  my  thin  hand, 
and  looking  at  me  with  tears  in  her  eyes.  When  she  disap- 
peared, her  place  was  taken  by  Violet  Grafton ;  and  her  silken 
ringlets  in  turn  faded  away  to  be  replaced  by  the  tender  face  of 
my  young  sister  Annie  and  the  mild  eyes  of  my  father. 

When  I  grew  stronger,  and  the  fever  left  me,  I  knew  that  all 
these  figures  were  real.  Violet  Grafton  had  been  conducted  to 
Mrs.  Fitzhugh's  by  Mordaunt,  on  the  night  when  they  left  Beau- 
regard's head-quarters,  and  my  father  had  hastened  with  Annie 
from  Eagle's-Nest. 

It  was  surrounded  by  all  these  kind  faces  that  I  slowly  began 


ELM    COTTAGE    AND    ITS    INMATES.    143 

to  recover.  Charley  was  nearly  well  already,  went  about  with 
his  arm  in  a  very  handsome  sling,  and  distributed  his  jokes, 
anecdotes,  and  warlike  reminiscences  on  every  side,  especially 
in  the  direction  of  Miss  Annie  Surry,  between  whom  and  the 
youth  seemed  to  exist  the  very  best  understanding. 

It  really  did  appear  at  one  time  that  relations  equally  pleasing 
were  going  to  be  established  between  two  other  persons.  May 
Beverley  was  much  changed,  and  I  longed,  but  was  afraid,  to  ask 
whether  she  had  broken  her  repulsive  contract.  You  have  seen 
her,  my  dear  reader,  during  those  days  at  The  Oaks.  She 
was  now  a  very  different  person.  Surely  something  had  oc- 
curred to  make  her  future  less  threatening !  In  her  eyes,  her 
smile,  every  movement  of  her  person,  there  was  an  exquisite 
gayety  which  I  had  never  seen  before.  Her  glance  at  times  was 
full  of  such  sweetness,  that  it  very  nearly  intoxicated  the  poor 
invalid  who  met  it.  He  watched  every  motion  of  the  slender  and 
graceful  figure — her  voice  was  like  music  to  him :  his  state  of 
mind  was  imbecile  in  the  very  highest  degree !  If  her  smile  dis- 
appeared, it  was  to  give  way  to  tears  at  some  pathetic  story  or 
some  incident  of  heroism.  Then  her  bosom  heaved,  her  cheeks 
filled  with  blushes,  and  a  pensive  languor  seemed  to  weigh  down 
the  beautiful  head.  "When,  drying  her  eyes,  she  turned  and 
looked  at  me  with  a  smile,  those  great  violet  orbs  made  my 
pulses  leap.  I  was  a  thousand  times  more  enthralled  than  be- 
fore. 

It  is  the  "  old  story  of  a  man  and  a  woman  "  which  I  am  re- 
lating, you  see,  reader.  Has  the  fable  never  been  narrated 
of  you?  My  little  drama  was  played,  however,  under  somewhat 
peculiar  circumstances. 

Did  you  ever  lie  upon  a  sofa,  my  dear  reader,  while  recovering 
from  a  gunshot  wound,  and  pass  the  hours  listening  to  a  musical 
voice  reading  to  you — the  voice  of  the  woman  you  loved,  but 
who,  unfortunately,  was  engaged  to  another  individual?  The 
sensation  is  peculiar.  You  feel  in  a  delightful  state  of  uncertainty 
as  to  your  status  in  the  eyes  of  the  fair  damsel.  That  voice  is 
exquisitely  musical,  but  it  is  probably  going  soon  to  say  "I  will," 
where  that  reply  is  called  for  in  the  Form  for  the  Solemnization 


144  SURRY    OF    EAGLE'  S-NEST. 

of  Matrimony,  and  you  are  not  going  to  be  the  individual  to  make 
the  other  responses.  Those  eyes  are  charming,  and  look  at  you 
at  times  in  a  manner  which  makes  your  heart  beat ;  but  they 
may  have  a  richer  light  still  to  bestow  upon  that  hateful  person- 
age known  in  pathetic  love-songs  as  "Another."  Those  lips, 
so  red  and  soft,  which  thrill  you,  at  certain  moments,  with  their 
sweet  and  tender  smile,  you  think,  with  a  groan  of  rage  and 
jealousy,  to  what  uses  they  may  be  put,  and  mutter,  if  you  are 
poetically  inclined : 

"  Dear  as  remembered  kisses  after  death, 
And  sweet  as  those  by  hopeless  fancy  feigned, 
On  lips  that  are  for  others." 

That  obstinate  "  Another "  thus  thrusts  himself  in,  you  see, 
on  all  occasions.  You  are  called  upon  to  decide  upon  your 
course  with  the  promptness  of  a  general  in  face  of  the  enemy. 
"Will  you  brace  yourself  against  a  "hopeless  attachment,"  and 
"  tear  her  image  from  your  heart "  (see  numerous  romances),  or 
will  you  accept  the  goods  provided  by  the  kind  immortals, 
close  your  eyes  to  the  past  and  future,  and,  seeing  nothing  but 
the  face  beside  you,  let  your  bark  drift  on  wherever  the  waves 
may  bear  it  ? 

— I  drifted. 

So,  amid  the  songs  of  birds  and  the  perfume  of  a  thousand 
flowers,  with  May  Beverley  reading  "old  romances"  to  me,  I 
passed  the  happy  hours  of  my  convalescence.  But  the  cloud 
was  coming — the  storm  approached.  Suddenly  one  day,  all  the 
sunny  light  disappeared  from  May  Beverley's  face ;  her  girlish 
happiness  and  abandon  vanished :  the  beautiful  brow  of  the  young 
lady  was  overclouded,  and  the  fair  Hebe  "stiffened  into  stone." 

There  had  come  to  the  vine-embowered  cottage  of  Mrs.  Fitz- 
hugh  a  superbly  clad  officer,  in  a  new  uniform  all  shining  with 
gold  braid — and  this  officer  was  Captain  Frederick  Baskerville, 
Volunteer  Aide-de-Oamp  to  some  general  of  Beauregard's  army. 
In  regard  to  Captain  Baskerville,  Volunteer  A.  D.  C,  the  reader 
knows  that  I  am  not  a  fair  witness.  But  others  said  that  he 
never  would  go  into  action.  The  taunts,  even  before  him,  of 
the  young  ladies  of  the  country,  whose  brothers  were  in  the 


ELM    COTTAGE    AND    ITS    INMATES.     145 

army,  had  induced  him  to  seek  his  easy  position,  it  was  said  j 
hut  he  was  always  sick  or  on  furlough.  Jealousy!  envy\ 
illiberality !  I  hear  my  readers  exclaim.  Doubtless — for  who 
ever  could  see  any  merit  in  a  rival  ?  It  was  curious,  however, 
that  nobody  that  knew  this  man  could  bear  him. 

The  person  who  liked  him  least  of  all,  apparently,  was  May 
Beverley.  She  treated  him  with  unmistakable  coldness — but  I 
wish  to  guard  the  reader  from  supposing  that  she  was  much 
more  cordial  in  her  demeanor  toward  another  person.  From 
that  unlucky  moment  when  Captain  Baskerville  made  his  ap- 
pearance, all  the  young  lady's  sunny  smiles  disappeared ;  the 
thaw  stopped  ;  she  froze  again. 

No  sickness  lasts  forever,  and  you  finally  recover,  even  from 
a  bullet  through  the  lungs.  Soon  after  the  appearance  of  Bas- 
kerville at  Elm  Cottage,  the  Beverleys  returned  to  The  Oaks, 
and  very  soon  thereafter  I  set  out  Avith  my  father  and  sister  in 
the  rickety  old  family  carriage  for  Eagle's-Nest. 

1  have  said  nothing  of  Violet  Grafton,  and  yet  she  had  been 
like  a  ministering  angel  to  me  in  my  illness.  She  had  become  a 
decided  favorite  with  Mrs.  Fitzhugh,  a  woman  of  great  warmth 
of  heart  and  strength  of  character,  who  liked  or  disliked  you 
vigorously,  and  "spoke  her  mind"  on  all  occasions;  and  this 
excellent  lady  now  declared  that  Violet  should  not  leave  her. 
"She  is  a  perfect  darling,"  said  the  old  lady,  busily  knitting, 
"  and  never  shall  want  a  home  as  long  as  I  have  one."  So  the 
beautiful  girl  seemed  moored  in  a  serene  port  at  last,  secure  from 
storms.  There  was  but  one  other  member  of  the  household, 
Miss  Henrietta  Fitzhugh,  niece  of  the  old  lady,  and  a  perfect 
witch  of  gayety  and  abandon.  Scarcely  sixteen,  she  already  be- 
gan to  "make  eyes"  at  the  male  sex,  and  had  the  contagious 
playfulness  of  a  kitten.  I  cannot  speak  further  of  Miss  Henrietta 
at  this  time;  she  will  probably  reappear  on  the  scene.  Ibid 
all  these  kind  friends  farewell,  enter  the  old  carriage,  and,  tra- 
versing Fauquier  and  Stafford,  we  cross  the  Rappahannock  and 
are  safely  landed  at  Eagle's-Nest. 
7 


146  SURRY    OF    BAGLE'S-NEST. 

XL. 

A  CHAPTER  ENTIRELY  WITHOUT  INCIDENT. 

It  was  already  autumn  when  we  reached  Eagle's-Nest,  and  the 
September  days  had  begun  to  tint  the  woods  with  the  rich  col- 
ors of  the  fall.  The  old  house,  perched  upon  its  lofty  hill  above 
the  Rappahannock,  seemed  to  hold  out  arms  of  welcome ;  and  I 
greeted  all  the  old  familiar  scenes  and  sights  with  the  ardor  of  an 
exile  coming  home,  once  more,  after  years  of  absence. 

The  sight  of  the  ancient  mansion,  buried  in  its  trees,  was 

"  Welcome  as  the  hand 
Of  brother  in  a  foreign  land," 

as  says  the  sweetest  and  most  musical — to  my  ear,  at  least — of  all 
the  Northern  poets;  and  I  know  not  what  emotion  of  boyish 
yearning  came  to  me  as  I  entered  the  old  hall,  and  murmured, 
"  After  all,  there  is  nothing  like  home !" 

The  old  pointer  on  the  porch  came  forward  frisking  to  re- 
ceive my  salutation  ;  the  portraits  seemed  to  smile  upon  me  ;  and 
as  I  passed  the  picture  of  Philip  Surry  the  cavalier,  I  thought  the 
eyes  followed  and  spoke  to  me. 

My  wound  was  slow  in  healing,  and  I  was  driven  to  my  books 
for  amusement.  What  a  world  of  thought  and  emotion  lies  open 
at  the  feet  of  the  student !  Books  are  the  depositories  of  the 
thoughts  of  the  great — and  these  thoughts,  more  than  all  else, 
stimulate  the  intellect.  I  have  known  some  men,  whose  minds 
were  a  very  thin  soil  indeed,  but  who  had  read  so  much  that  a 
very  good  crop  was  the  result !  When  the  soil  is  naturally 
strong,  the  culture  of  the  student  makes  the  intellectual  giant. 

Unfortunately,  the  present  writer  read  only  for  amusement, 
and  had  an  "ill-regulated  mind."  It  was  the  honey  that  I  sought, 
not  the  fruit;  and  in  the  sunny  mornings,  in  my  chair  upon  the 
portico,  it  was  a  volume  of  romance  or  poetry,  not  history  or 
philosophy,  which  enabled  me  to  pass  the  hours  so  pleasantly. 

Sometimes  the  open  book  lay  for  hours  almost  on  my  knee, 
and  I  mused  upon  a  hundred  things— upon  my  visit   to  the  Wil- 


A  CHAPTER  WITHOUT   INCIDENT.      147 

derness,  Violet  Grafton,  Mordaunt,  May  Beverley,  the  meeting 
with  Will,  and  then  came  the  gay  laugh  of  Stuart  breaking  on 
the  silence,  and  heard  almost  with  the  material  ear.  The  trees 
rustled  in  the  fresh  September  airs;  Annie  ran  to  place  in  my 
button-hole  a  bunch  of  autumn  flowers;  the  great  river  flowed 
below  the  hills — a  ribbon  of  silver  on  a  tissue  of  emerald ;  and 
Eagle's-Nest,  and  all  thereunto  appertaining,  was  a  lazy,  tranquil 
picture  of  an  old  Virginia  home. 

With  the  advent  of  October  I  grew  stronger,  and  finally  ven- 
tured out  with  my  gun  after  the  partridges.  Then,  enamored 
of  the  glorious  days,  I  fitted  up  my  boat,  and  went  duck-shooting 
on  the  Rappahannock.  One  day,  when  I  had  gotten  thoroughly 
wet  at  this  sport,  I  returned  with  a  hot  feeling  about  the  head. 
On  the  next  morning  I  could  scarcely  get  out  of  bed,  and  that 
evening  had  a  burning  fever. 

It  lasted  me  almost  until  spring,  and  brought  me  to  death's 
door. 

During  my  illness  I  heard  little  of  politics  or  war.  I  only  knew 
that  the  North  had  determined  to  carry  on  hostilities  with  greater 
energy  than  ever,  and  that  immense  armaments  were  marshal- 
ling by  land  and  sea  to  force  the  South  back  into  the  Union. 
Johnston  and  Beauregard  remained  at  Centreville,  facing  the  Fed- 
eral army,  now  commanded  by  General  McClellan ;  and  Jackson 
had  been  appointed  Major-General,  and,  proceeding  to  Winches- 
ter, had  made  an  expedition  against  the  enemy  on  the  Upper  Po- 
tomac, which  had  resulted  in  their  retreat  from  that  region.  I 
had  received  a  letter  from  him,  enclosing  an  official  document, 
and  this  had  proved  to  be  my  appointment  as  Major,  which,  I  had 
no  doubt,  his  friendship  had  secured  for  me. 

Among  the  figures  which  peopled  my  musings,  you  will  no 
doubt  understand,  my  dear  reader,  that  a  certain  young  lady  had 
a  prominent  place.  I  have  not  insisted  upon  raving  about  her, 
but  she  was  seldom  out  of  my  mind.  I  always  got  back,  how- 
ever, after  my  extensive  trains  of  reflection,  to  the  point  from 
which  I  started — that  my  best  plan  was,  to  stay  away  from  her. 
"  It  is  for  every  young  lady  to  decide  her  own  destiny,"  I  mut- 
tered with  gloomy  pride;   "and  she  has  decided  to  marry  that 


148  SURRY    OP    EAG-LE'S-NEST. 

man.  I  would  like  to  go  and  cut  his  throat,  hut  that  would  not 
mend  matters!"  And,  turning  over  in  my  bed,  I  would  try  to 
think  of  something  else. 

In  February  I  left  my  bed,  and  by  the  first  of  March  had  nearly 
regained  my  strength.  My  purpose  was  to  return  at  the  earliest 
possible  moment  to  my  duties,  and,  thanks  to  my  father,  I  was 
supplied  with  a  good  horse  to  replace  those  which  I  had  lost. 

My  servant  had  followed  me  from  Manassas  to  Elm  Cottage, 
and  from  Elm  Cottage  to  Eagle's-Nest.  He  responded  with 
grins  to  my  announcement  that  I  was  ready  to  return  to  camp, 
the  lazy  life  of  which  the  sable  individual  dearly  loved ;  and  in 
the  first  week  of  March  I  set  out  to  rejoin  General  Jackson. 

This  time  I  had  not  the  sign  of  an  incident  upon  the  way,  and 
I  did  not  stop  at  The  Oaks.  Crossing  the  Blue  Ridge  at  Ashby's 
Gap,  and  passing  through  the  little  village  of  Millwood  without 
drawing  rein,  I  was  directed  to,  and  on  a  raw  March  evening 
reached.  General  Jackson's  head-quarters  near  Winchester. 


XLI. 

THE  DISPATCH   FROM  RICHMOND. 

When  I  entered  his  tent,  Jackson  was  reading  his  Bible,  which 
rested  on  his  knees.  At  sight  of  me,  he  closed  the  volume,  and, 
rising,  cordially  pressed  my  hand,  offering,  after  his  habitual 
fashion,  to  take  my  hat. 

"  I  am  pleased  to  see  you  again,  Captain,  or  Major,  as  I  must 
now  call  you,"  he  said,  smiling;  "your  escape  has  been  truly 
providential." 

"  Thanks,  General,  for  your  good  wishes,  and  my  appointment, 
which  I  suspect  I  owe  to  your  friendship.  Are  you  well  of  your 
own  wound  ?" 

•'  Entirely  ;  it  was  a  trifle.  I  have  reason  to  be  thankful,  when 
so  many  brave  men  fell.  Did  you  receive  a  message  by  flag  of 
truce  from  your  brother?  I  mean  Lieutenant  Surry,  of  the 
United  States  Army." 


THE    DISPATCH    FROM    RICHMOND.    149 

"  Thank  you,  General — yes  ;  and  replied  to  it." 
A  fact  of  which  I  have  neglected  to  speak.     Will  announced 
that  he  was  unhurt ;  and  I  had  written  from  Eagle's-Nest. 
Jackson  shook  his  head,  and  said  : 

"  This  is  a  most  unhappy  conflict ;  and  the  enemy  seem  bent 
upon  our  complete  destruction.  But  the  South  must  do  her  duty 
and  trust  in  Providence.  I  shall  try  to  hold  this  region  ;  but  my 
force  is  wholly  inadequate." 

"  I  do  not  ask  your  plans,  General,  but  would  like  to  know  the 
etate  of  affairs." 

"It  is  simple  :  the  army  fs  reorganizing — a  bad  arrangement; 
and  my  plan  is  to  put  on  as  bold  a  front  as  possible,  until  the 
troops  are  in  a  condition  to  take  the  field.  What  I  desire  is,  to 
hold  my  ground  until  we  can  advance  then ;  with  God's  bless- 
ing, let  us  make  thorough  work  of  it!"* 
"What  force  has  the  enemy,  General?" 

"  Nearly  fifty  thousand  men.  General  Banks  is  at  Charlestown 
with  about  thirty-five  thousand.  General  Kelly,  succeeding  Lan- 
der at  Paw-paw,  with  ubout  eleven  thousand ;  and  others  are  dis- 
tributed along  the  Potomac." 

"Why,  that  is  sufficient  to  swallow  us  !" 

"  I  do  not  feel  discouraged ;  and  we  may  now  look  for  war  in 
earnest.*  I  have  long  ago  made  up  my  mind  on  the  point, 
Major.  If  this  Valley  is  lost,  all  is  lost  !*  And,  in  defending  it, 
I  gratify  my  own  feelings.  It  contains  the  homes  of  my  brave 
soldiers;*  and,  with  God's  blessing,  I  intend  to  hold  every 
foot  of  it,  whatever  may  be  the  force  that  is  brought  against 
me!" 

I  listened  in  silence,  and  more  than  ever  admired  this  deter- 
mined leader. 

"It  is  incredible  to  me,  General,"  I  said,  " that  the  Govern- 
ment does  not  send  you  more  troops.     They  must  understand  as 
well  as  you  do  that,  if  the  enemy  gain  the  upper  Valley,  Rich- 
mond will  be  seriously  threatened." 
The  General  shook  his  head. 

*  His  words. 


150  SUKRY    OF    EAGLE'S-NEST. 

"  I  don't  think  they  have  a  great  deal  of  confidence  in  me,  Ma- 
jor," he  said  ;  "  and  I  must  do  what  I  can  with  the  force  1  have." 

"Nearly  fifty  thousand  to  four  thousand!  It  is  monstrous, 
General!" 

"  Our  place  is  to  fight,  not  to  count  numbers.  I  intend  to 
oppose  the  advance  of  the  enemy  by  every  means  in  my  power: 
the  rest  I  leave  in  the  hands  of  Providence." 

Soon  afterward,  I  rose  to  take  my  leave. 

"  To-morrow,  if  you  have  nothing  for  me  to  do,  I  will  ride 
over  and  see  my  friends  in  the  First  Brigade,  General,"  I  said. 

Jackson  smiled. 

"You  must  not  call  it  the  First  Brigade,  Major." 

"  Why  not,  General  ?" 

"  Do  you  remember  General  Bee's  exclamation  at  Manassas, 
as  he  was  rallying  his  men  ?" 

"Perfectly,  sir:  he  pointed  to  you,  and  compared  you  to  a 
stone  wall." 

"  I  see  you  remember  the  very  word.  Well,  the  men  insist 
upon  giving  me  the  nickname  of  Stonewall ;  and  they  call  the 
old  brigade  the  '  Stonewall  Brigade.'  " 

"  They  deserve  the  name." 

"  True ;  they  are  a  noble  body  of  men.  The  name  belongs  to 
them,  not  to  me ;  and,  after  this  war,  the  survivors  will  be  proud 
to  say,  'I  was  a  member  of  the  Stonewall  Brigade,'  to  their 
children."* 

So  it  was  the  "  Stonewall,"  not  the  "  First,"  Brigade,  I  visited 
next  day,  to  greet  my  many  old  friends  there.  The  aspect  of  the 
camps  at  this  time  was  inexpressibly  dreary.  They  were  situated 
in  the  great  fields  north  of  the  town,  where  the  March  winds  had 
full  sweep ;  and,  on  the  morning  of  my  visit,  a  gust  came  which 
prostrated  the  small  "  A  "  tents  of  a  whole  regiment.  Every 
thing  was  bare,  bleak,  chill,  and  gloomy.  When  I  reflected  that 
Jackson's  only  dependence  was  the  small  and  ragged  force  shiver- 
ing in  these  dilapidated  tents,  whose  torn  canvas  fluttered 
drearily  in  the  wind,  my  heart  sank. 

*  His  words. 


THE    DISPATCH  FROM    RICHMOND.     151 

The  troops,  however,  were  in  perfectly  good  spirits.  I  never 
saw  men  more  ragged  or  merrier.  The  smoky  canvas  dens 
resounded  with  songs — and  I  well  remember  the  gay  group 
around  the  smouldering  sticks  in  front  of  our  tent,  listening  to 
a  song  whose  burden  was : 

"  Oh !  he  was  the  boy  with  the  auburn  hair, 
And  his  name  it  was  MacElroy." 

It  was  sung  by  a  brave  youth  of  the  Second  Virginia,  who  af- 
terward passed  gallantly  through  nearly  every  battle  fought  in 
Virginia ;  became  orderly  sergeant  of  his  company ;  and,  when 
it  was  swept  away  nearly  to  the  last  man,  continued  to  call  the 
roll  regularly  every  morning,  going  conscientiously  over  the 
names  of  the  dead  and  absent.  The  "Here!"  which  he  uttered, 
when  calling  his  own  name,  was  often  the  sole  response  to  this 
singular  roll-call. 

After  passing  some  hours  with  my  friends,  I  left  them,  and 
rode  forward  to  look  at  the  ground  north  of  Winchester,  where 
the  enemy  would  probably  make  their  attack. 

I  was  riding  along  the  chill,  dreary,  and  wind-swept  turnpike, 
whose  pulverized  particles  rose  with  every  gust  and  blinded  the 
eyes,  when  a  courier  appeared,  coming  at  full  speed  from  the 
direction  of  Martinsburg,  and  soon  reached  me. 

"What  news?"  I  said. 

"The  enemy  are  advancing,  Major." 

"From  Martinsburg?" 

"  And  Charlestown,  both." 

"  Who  are  you  from  ?"  I  called  after  him  as  he  receded. 

"  Colonel  Ashby." 

The  next  moment  he  disappeared  in  a  dust-cloud. 

I  at  once  turned  my  horse's  head,  and  rode  back  to  General 
Jackson.  When  I  arrived  I  found  him  calmly  engaged  in  issuing 
orders  for  the  disposition  of  his  forces.  The  staff  were  soon 
riding  in  every  direction,  and  I  assisted  in  the  transmission  of 
the  orders — disposing  the  regiments  as  directed,  and  returning 
toward  nightfall. 

So  rapid  had  been  the  enemy's  advance  that  their  infantry 


152  SURRY    OF    E  AGLE'S-NEST. 

were  now  engaged  with  our  cavalry  only  a  few  miles  from  the 
town.  The  tiring  was  rapid  and  continuous,  and  it  was  soon 
evident  that  the  cavalry  required  support.  A  force  of  infantry 
was  accordingly  sent  forward  to  their  assistance,  and  Jackson 
then  drew  up  his  entire  command  in  line  of  battle,  evidently 
determined  to  give  battle,  whatever  force  was  brought  against 
him. 

I  was  riding  with  him  ahout  nightfall,  when  the  firing  In 
front  had  ceased,  and  he  said,  with  that  quick  glitter  of  the  eye 
which  always  showed  that  he  was  aroused  : 

"I  do  not  intend  to  leave  Winchester  without  a  tight.  With 
tho  hlessing  of  Providence,  1  believe  T  can  check,  if  not  drive 
back,  tho  enemy's  force.     At  all  events,  Major,  1  am  going  to  try." 

Ho  soon  afterward  rode  hack  to  head-quarters,  drank  a  glass 
of  milk,  and  said  to  mo : 

"I  am  going  into  Winchester,  Major.  If  you  would  like  to 
accompany  me,  I  will  make  you  acquainted  with  a  most  estimable 
family,  and  we  can  talk  upon  the  way." 

"  I  will  ho  very  glad  to  go,  General,"  was  my  reply,  and  wo 
set  forward. 

Jackson  stopped  before  a  neat  house,  on  one  of  the  side  streets, 
and,  llxing  his  bridle  to  tho  fence,  entered  the  house,  where  ho 
was  received  and  greeted  with  great  cordiality  by  a  clerical  look- 
ing gentleman  and  his  family. 

Our  host  was  in  fact  the  Rev.  Mr.  G ,  of  tho  Presbyterian 

Church,  and  those  who  knew  the  preference  which  Jackson 
always  exhibited  for  the  society  of  clergymen  will  not  bo  sur- 
prised at  hearing  that  Mr.  G was  his  chosen  friend. 

An  hour  then  passed  in  friendly  conversation,  and  Jackson 
then  said  : 

"With  your  permission,  Mr.  G ,  T  will  now  read  a  chapter 

in  the  Bible,  and  offer  a  prayer." 

"  I  will  be  glad  if  you  would,  General." 

Tho  books  wore  brought;  Jackson  read  a  chapter  with  great 
solemnity,  and  then  all  knelt,  and  he  offered  up  a  fervent  prayer. 

When  ho  rose  his  features  wore  slightly  Hushed,  and  I  observed 
an  animation  in  his  oyos  which  was  unusual. 


rilK    DISPATOB    FROM    RICHMOND     LW 

Be  stood  for  n  moment  looking  in  silence  al  the  family,  who 
were  greal  favorite* with  him,  and  then,  with  i  martial  smile 
upon  his  features,  suddenly  said: 

"  Would  you  like  me  to  tell  you  b  secret,  my  frlen< 

"  \vii:ii  is  u.  General  " 

"  And  yel  it   "ill  ho  against  all  military    nil. 

Expectation  was  in  ever]  *j e, 

"  1  am  going  to  attack  the  onotny    to  night." 

A  flutter  ran  through  the  auditory. 

"  M  v  force  is  small,"  be  OOntinued  With  animation,  "hut  it  will 

ho  doubled  by  tin'  suddenness  of  the  attack,     shall  I  prove  mj 
soli' a  very  hail  General  bj  telling  you  exaotly  what  l  design  I 

Well.   1  am  going  to  llank  thoni  on  Iho   Marl  in  sbui'g    POad,  ll]    Olia 
hour  iVom  this  (ii  no  !      Von  see  thai  unless  \  on  ran  pass  my  [)loketB 

within  that  time,  and  warn  them,  aoharm  Is  done  by  bhlsdlsolo 
sure.     Vi's!"  be  added,  with  something  almost  like  Joy  In  bis  faoa, 

"  1  shall  attack  suddenly  with  mv  u  hole  foroe      I  'hall  dri\o  Ihcm 
hack      and  our  dear  old  Winchester  w  ill  not  ho  at   their  mercy  ! 
After  a  lew   more  words,  ullorod  in  Iho  same  animated  lone      I 

had   never  before  seen  him  so  elated    the  Geuoral  bade  them 

good   night,  and   WO  loll  the  house.' 

Passing  the  telegraph  offloe  on  Loudoun  street,  he  .'ailed  to 
the  courier  on  duty  there  tor  any  dispatohai. 

"This  has  jus!  this  niouioni,  arrived,  General." 

And    a    paper  was    handed    him,    which     he    read     hv    Iho     light 

st  reaming  i  brougb  1 1 >»'  window. 

Suddenly  l  saw  his  brows  knit  together,  and  something  like 
gloom  overspread  bis  features.     Me  orumplod  up  the  paper  in 

his  hand,  dropped  It,  after  his  habit,  and,  growling  in  the  cuiieil 
tones,  "Very  good!"  rode  on,  without,  uttering  another  word. 

As  wo  approached  head  quartet  ;  i"  said  ourtly,  in  the  still'   i 
of  military  ton. 

"  Major  Burry,  direot  General  Garnetl  and  the  other  ooi and 

ir.  to  provide  the  troops  immediately  with  three  days1  cooked 
rations,  and  hold  themselves  In  reading  ■  to  move." 

•  QlttoriotL 

7* 


154  SURRY    OF    EAGLE'S-NEST. 

I  saluted,  and  Jackson  added  in  the  same  tone : 

"  Then  ride  on  to  Colonel  Ashby — you  will  find  him  on  the 
Martinsburg  road — and  direct  him  to  hold  himself  in  readiness 
to  withdraw  his  command  through  Winchester.  I  wish  this 
movement  to  be  deliberate — I  will  have  no  stampeding." 

I  set  off  rapidly,  and,  having  transmitted  the  orders  to  the 
infantry  commanders,  rode  on  to  the  front,  in  search  of  Colonel 
Ashby.  I  had  some  curiosity  to  see  this  officer.  During  my 
visit  to  the  First  Brigade  the  conversation  had  turned  upon  his 
character,  and  I  had  found  my  friends  quite  enthusiastic  on  the 
subject.  They  seemed  never  to  tire  in  relating  his  exploits.  He 
was  unresting,  a  sleepless  war-machine,  ready  night  and  day  for 
a  raid,  an  attack,  a  battle — anything,  so  that  it  had  "fight "  in  it. 
While  others  slept,  he  was  in  the  saddle.  Seen  to-day  at  one 
point  on  his  swift  white  horse — to-morrow  he  would  be  at 
another  place,  sixty  or  seventy  miles  distant,  inspecting  his 
pickets,  gaining  information,  and  seeing  that  all  was  well. 
Utterly  reckless  in  action,  and  liking  most  to  "  come  to  the 
sabre,"  he  was  represented  as  the  soul  of  courtesy  and  kindness. 
His  men  idolized  him — he  was  their  ieau  ideal  of  chivalry,  and 
the  whole  army  chanted  his  praises. 

It  is  not  surprising,  therefore,  that  I  was  glad  of  an  opportunity 
to  make  the  acquaintance  of  the  Colonel.  The  opportunity  was 
at  hand.  In  the  extensive  fields  on  each  side  of  the  road  were 
seen  through  the  darkness  the  long  lines  of  Ashby's  cavalry  in 
line  of  battle — every  man  in  the  saddle. 

There  was  always  something  especially  picturesque  and  war- 
like, to  my  eyes,  in  this  spectacle  of  cavalry  at  night,  drawn  up 
to  await  or  make  an  attack.  While  the  infantry  sleep,  the  dark 
figures  on  their  black  horses  are  watching.  Only  the  clank  of  a 
sabre  now  and  then,  or  the  shrill  neigh  of  some  impatient 
animal,  proves  that  the  long  line,  silent  there  in  the  gloom,  is 
not  composed  of  phantoms. 

But  I  had  no  time  to  indulge  in  thoughts  of  the  picturesque. 
I  inquired  for  Colonel  Ashby ;  was  directed  to  a  tree,  on  a  neigh- 
boring hill,  where  a  small  fire  glimmered  like  a  star,  and  soon 
reached  it. 


ASHBY.  155 

XLII. 

ASHBY. 

A  figuek  wrapped  in  a  cloak  was  lying  by  the  small  fire,  which 
the  chill  March  night  made  far  from  uncomfortable. 

I  could  see,  as  I  approached,  that  tbis  personage  was  reading 
in  a  small  volume,  and,  as  he  raised  his  head,  and  the  firelight 
fell  upon  his  face,  something  on  his  cheek  glittered. 
m  As  he  rose,  I  recognized  my  travelling  compani-on  on  the  way 
to  the  Valley,  who  had  carried  before  him  the  weak  beggar-girl, 
and  given  me  so  cordial  an  invitation  to  visit  him.  His  beard 
was  blacker  and  heavier ;  his  face  more  swarthy ;  his  expression 
deeply  sorrowful.  But  in  the  cavalry  colonel  of  low  stature,  clad 
in  gray,  with  sabre  at  side,  and  wearing  a  hat  with  a  dark  feather, 
I  easily  recognized  my  former  companion. 

"Colonel  Ashby?"  I  said. 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  A  message  from  General  Jackson,  Colonel.  I  am  glad  to  see 
you  again,  but  am  afraid  you  don't  remember  me." 

I  drew  nearer  as  I  spoke,  into  the  circle  of  light. 

"  Perfectly,  Captain,"  he  said,  with  much  courtesy.  "At  first 
the  darkness  prevented  me." 

And,  with  frank  and  soldierly  grace,  he  extended  his  hand, 
hastily  turning  aside  as  he  did  so,  and  passing  his  other  hand 
across  his  eyes. 

The  voice  of  the  speaker  was  profoundly  sad  ;  but  in  his  air  I 
observed  the  same  high-bred  courtesy  and  kindness. 

In  reply  to  my  message,  he  now  said : 

"  Then  the  General  intends  evacuating  Winchester  ?  I  am 
sorry  we  are  to  do  so  without  a  fight,  and  I  received  orders  to 
prepare  for  action  in  an  hour.  The  General's  directions  will  be 
observed,  Captain — I  beg  your  pardon — Major :  I  think  I  can 
promise  that  my  command  will  fall  back  in  good  order." 

"  I  have  no  doubt  of  it,  Colonel.  I  am  glad  to  see  you  in  com- 
mand of  so  fine  a  body  of  men." 


156  SURRY    OF    EAGLE'S-NEST. 

"  Yes,  they  are  gallant  fellows,  but  I  fear  I  am  no  disciplina- 
rian." 

I  had  thrown  my  bridle  over  a  bough,  and  was  warming  my 
fingers  at  the  fire. 

My  host  gave  me  a  seat  beside  him  upon  his  cloak. 

"  I  am  afraid  I  disturb  you  in  your  reading,"  I  said. 

"Oh!  not  at  all." 

"What  book  absorbed  you  so?" 

"I  was  reading  in  the  Bible,"  he  said,  simply,  but  with  his 
former  sadness  of  tone ;  "  it  is  the  best  resource  for  the  unfortu- 
nate." 

"Do  you  class  yourself  with  such,  Colonel?"  I  said.  "I 
should  think  that,  with  so  fine  a  command  as  yours,  and  your 
constitutional  gayety — which  I  well  remember  you  showed  upon 
our  ride  last  April— you  would  regard  yourself  as  any  thing  but 
unfortunate." 

"  My  '  constitutional  gayety '  ?"  he  murmured.  "  I  have  none 
left." 

The  accent  of  the  speaker,  as  he  uttered  these  words,  was  so 
mournful,  that  for  an  instant  I  did  not  reply. 

"Pardon  me,"  I  said,  at  length,  "if  I  have  touched  some 
chord  which  jars.  Had  I  supposed  that  my  words  would  wound 
you"— 

"  It  is  nothing,"  he  said,  sadly ;  "  but  I  am  much  changed  since 
I  saw  you.     I  have  lost  my  brother." 

"Your  brother? — but  pardon  me  again.  "We  will  speak  of 
something  else." 

"  It  does  not  pain  me,"  he  replied,  with  settled  sadness.  "  At 
times  it  is  a  relief  to  speak  of  our  sorrows  to  a  friend — if  you 
will  let  me  call  you  such,  sir." 

I  bowed  with  as  much  respect  as  sympathy,  for  the  voice  of 
this  man  went  to  my  heart. 

"When  I  saw  you  in  April,  Major,"  he  said,  in  a  low  tone, 
"I  had  never  had  any  thing  to  distress  me,  and  doubtless  I  ap- 
peared to  you  gay  enough.  I  lived  at  that  time  near  Markham's, 
with  my  brother  Richard,  and  we  passed  our  lives  together.  I 
had  no  other  friend.    You  should  have  known  him:  he  was  not  8. 


ASHBY.  157 

small,  plain-looking  man,  like  myself,  but  tall  and  imposing,  with 
the  eye  of  an  eagle,  and  a  soul  that  was  the  very  mirror  of  truth 
and  honor.  A  braver  spirit  never  breathed — a  kinder  heart 
never  beat  in  human  bosom.  I  weary  you — but  I  loved  my 
brother,"  faltered  the  speaker,  "he  was  all  I  had.  You  see  now 
why  I  am  not  so  gay  as  when  we  met  down  yonder.  I  cannot 
help  it — my  poor  brother  is  dead." 

A  flush  came  to  the  swarthy  features  of  the  speaker,  and  the 
fire-light  glittered  on  a  tear  which  trembled  in  his  eye. 

"  They  killed  him  yonder,  on  the  Potomac,"  he  added,  in  a  low 
voice,  "  where  his  company  was  scouting.  He  had  only  a  few 
men  with  him,  and  was  overpowered.  He  would  not  surrender 
— I  never  intend  to,  Major — but  fell  back,  fighting  a  whole 
squadron.  In  crossing  the  railroad,  his  horse  fell  into  one  of 
those  openings  called  'cattle- stops'- — -before  he  could  rise,  they 
were  upon  him;  and  can  you  guess  what  happened?"  said  the 
speaker,  in  a  lower  tone  than  before. 

"Tell  me." 

"  They  beat  him  to  death — literally ;  riddling  his  breast  with 
bullets  as  they  did  so."* 

The  tears  were  burnt  up  in  the  fire  which  blazed  from  Ash- 
by's  eyes  as  he  spoke. 

"I  came  up  at  the  moment,"  he  continued,  more  calmly,  but 
with  gloomy  feeling  in  his  voice,  "  and  charged  with  a  few  men, 
killing  eleven — but  my  brother  was  dead.  We  buried  him  on 
the  banks  of  the  Potomac.  I  am  a  strong  man,  but  nearly 
fainted  at  his  grave.     Then  I  came  back  to  my  work." 

The  deep-toned  and  sorrowful  accents  died  away.  I  under- 
stood all,  and  realized  what  a  lady  afterward  said  to  me — "  Ash- 
by  is  now  a  devoted  man." 

He  preserved  silence  for  some  moments,  gazing  into  the  fire ; 
and  then,  drawing  a  long  breath,  as  though  to  relieve  himself  of 
some  weight  upon  his  breast,  made  an  evident  effort  to  banish 
his  gloom.  His  former  air  of  gentleness  returned,  and  he  said, 
with  an  attempt  to  smile : 

"  Pardon  all  this  egotism,   Major.     The  unfortunate  are  too 

*  Historical 


158  SURRY    OF   EAGLE'S-NEST. 

prone  to  cry  out  at  times,  and  try  to  make  others  share  their 
burden.  It  is  hard  to  hear  alone  the  weight  of  that  '  perilous 
stuff  that  weighs  upon  the  heart.'  " 

"  Your  words  have  affected  me  deeply,"  was  my  reply. 

"  But  I  should  have  spared  you  this  recital.  The  world  would 
be  a  gloomy  place  if  every  unlucky  fellow  insisted  upon  retailing 
his  misfortunes  to  his  friends." 

"  Sympathy,  at  least,  is  something." 

"  It  is  much — almost  all  that  is  worth  living  for.  Life  is  not  a 
very  gay  affair — in  fact,  I  am  rather  tired  of  it.  But  let  me  cease 
this  unprofitable  talk.  It  would  astonish  the  rough,  brave  fel- 
lows yonder,  who  think  I  am  laying  some  plan  to  entrap  the 
enemy.     So  we  are  to  withdraw,  and  without  a  fight!" 

"  You  will  have  charge  of  the  rear." 

"  Of  course ;  and  I  promise  you  that,  if  they  press  too  hard, 
they  shall  feel  my  teeth.  But  I  expected  a  regular  battle.  Well, 
that  must  come,  too,  beforedong." 

I  rose  to  go,  and  said,  laughing  : 

"  You  are  one  of  the  few  men  I  have  met  with  who  look  for- 
ward with  pleasure  to  a  battle." 

"  I  have  never  seen  one — I  was  not  at  Manassas,"  he  replied, 
gently. 

"  It  is  very  poor  amusement,  Colonel,  I  assure  you." 

"  But  exciting  ?" 

"  Too  much  so." 

'•Can  any  excitement  be  too  great?"  was  his  sad  reply,  as  I 
got  into  the  saddle ;   "  it  enables  us  to  forget." 

And,  saluting  me  with  a  movement  full  of  friendly  grace,  the 
colonel  of  cavalry  resumed  his  place  by  the  fire,  and  recommenced 
reading  his  Bible. 


I    WILL    NEVER    LEAVE,    ETC.  159 


XLIII. 

.  "WILL  NEVER  LEAVE  WINCHESTER  WITHOUT  A  FIGHT 

—NEVER,   NEVER!" 

When  I  returned  to  head-quarters  it  was  nearly  midnight. 

The  General  was  absent,  and  ascertaining  that  he  had  ridden 
into  Winchester  ten  minutes  before,  I  followed  and  came  up  with 
him  on  Loudoun  street. 

To  my  brief  report,  his  only  reply  was,  "  Good."  Then  he  rode 
on  in  silence.  I  had  never  seen  him  look  more  gloomy  and  de- 
jected. Supposing  that  he  was  going  to  pay  some  private  visit, 
I  said : 

"  Any  thing  further  for  me  to  do,  General  ?" 

He  shook  his  head. 

"I  will,  then,  return  to  head-quarters." 

"  Wait  a  moment — we  will  ride  back  together." 

And  turning  out  of  Loudoun  street,  he  stopped  before  Mr. 
G 's  again. 

"  Come  in,"  he  said,  in  his  brief  voice. 

I  entered  with  him,  and,  as  I  had  expected,  found  that  no  one 
ha.d  retired.  The  announcement  of  the  intended  attack  upon  the 
enemy  had  evidently  banished  sleep  from  every  eyelid. 

Jackson  advanced  into  the  apartment,  looking  so  cast  down 
that  his  expression  threw  a  gloom  over  every  face.  His  heavy 
boots  seemed  to  drag  over  the  floor ;  his  sabre  clanked  drearily. 

"  I  have  come  to  tell  you  good-by,"  he  said,  with  drooping 
bead. 

"  Good-by  !    You  are  going  to  leave  us,  General  ?" 

"Yes,  yes,  my  dear  friends,"  was  his  reply.  "Since  I  left 
you,  I  have  received  an  order  by  telegraph  to  evacuate  Winches- 
ter." 

"  From  Richmond?" 

He  nodded,  and  I  saw  his  eye  glitter. 

"They  know  best — or  think  they  do." 


160  SURRY    OF   EAGLE'S-NEST. 

These  words  were  uttered  so  quietly,  that  it  was  difficult  to 
perceive  the  sarcasm  under  them. 

"lam  ordered  to  fall  hack,"  he  continued,  with  great  dejec- 
tion ;  "  and  perhaps  it  is  best.  The  attack  I  intended  might  cost 
too  much.     I  cannot  sacrifice  my  men." 

"  Oh,  General !  you  are  going  to  leave  us  to  the  Yankees." 

"I  must." 

Jackson's  head  sank  upon  his  breast.  Then  it  suddenly  rose, 
his  cheeks  flushed  hotly,  his  eye  flashed,  and,  clutching  the  hilt 
of  his  sabre,  he  drew  it  a  foot  from  the  scabbard,  and,  rising  to 
his  full  height,  exclaimed : 

"I  will  never  leave  Winchester  without  a  fight — never,  never !" 

At  that  moment  the  appearance  of  the  soldier  was  superb. 
His  tall  figure  towered  above  the  group,  his  eyes  darted  lightning, 
his  huge  nostrils  expanded  like  those  of  a  war-horse  "snuffing 
the  battle  from  afar." 

But  the  unwonted  excitement  did  not  last  long ;  the  color 
died  away  from  the  cheeks,  the  fire  from  the  eyes.  The  head  of 
the  General  again  sank,  his  dejected  expression  returned,  and, 
driving  back  his  sabre  with  a  clash  which  rang  out  harshly  in  the 
silence,  he  said  in  a  gloomy  voice : 

"  No,  I  must  obey  orders — I  cannot  sacrifice  my  men.  I  must 
go  without  fighting." 

And  he  bade  farewell  to  all,  grasping  the  hands  of  one  after 
the  other. 

"  Farewell,"  he  said,  "  and  may  Providence  watch  over  you." 

I  bade  our  kind  host  and  bis  family  good-by  in  my  turn,  and, 
riding  with  General  Jackson,  who  was  silent  and  gloomy  still, 
returned  to  head-quarters.* 

At  daylight,  the  enemy  were  in  front  of  the  town,  and  I  ex- 
pected every  moment  to  see  Jackson  put  his  army  in  motion,  in 
obedience  to  his  orders  from  Richmond,  and  retire  before  them. 

He  seemed,  however,  to  have  no  intention  of  doing  any  such 
thing.  Instead  of  falling  back,  he  advanced  in  full  view  of  the 
©nemy,  and  manned  his   breastworks  on  the  Martinsburg  and 

♦  This  scene  is  historical. 


I    WILL    NEVER    LEAVE,  ETC.  161 

Berryville  roads.  Had  the  General  changed  his  mind  ?  "Was  he 
going  to  fight  in  defiance  of  orders,  and  could  there  be  some 
truth  in  the  views  of  those  who  called  him  ufool  Tom  Jackson," 
and  declared  that  he  was  "  crack-brained  "  ?  In  his  immediate 
front  was  a  force  of  thirty  thousand  men,  ready  to  advance  and 
crusli  his  small  force  of  about  four  thousand ;  and,  instead  of  taking 
steps  to  retire  befure  them,  as  the  bravest  general  in  the  world 
might  have  done  without  imputation  on  his  nerve,  he  seemed  de- 
termined to  fight  them,  and  die  where  he  was. 

I  scanned  the  countenance  of  the  General  curiously,  as  he  rode 
along  the  line  of  earthworks,  to  ascertain,  if  possible,  what  he 
designed.  But  no  mask  could  have  been  more  immovable.  His 
face  was  inscrutable,  and  never  relaxed  its  expression  of  calmness 
and  gravity. 

The  lines  of  earthworks  now  bristled  with  bayonets;  firing 
was  heard  in  front  from  the  cavalry  skirmishers;  and  I  ex- 
pected every  moment  to  see  Ashby  retire,  and  a  general  battle 
commence. 

I  was  speedily  to  comprehend,  however,  the  design  of  all  this 
manoeuvring — and  from  that  time,  the  "  crack-brained  "  theory 
of  the  General's  character  never  presented  itself  to  my  mind. 
All  at  once,  at  a  preconcerted  6ignal,  the  infantry  formed  in 
column,  silently  withdrew  from  the  trenches,  and,  moving  quietly 
along  the  bottom  of  a  sort  of  ravine  in  rear  of  the  works,  where 
they  were  completely  concealed  from  the  view  of  the  enemy,  took 
up  the  line  of  march  westward,  and  around  Winchester.  The 
"Round  Hill,1'  as  an  eminence  in  rear  of  the  town  is  called,  was 
encircled  by  the  long  lines  of  bayonets,  still  unseen  by  the  ene- 
my— the  little  army  advanced  steadily,  and,  again  obliquing, 
struck  into  the  Valley  turnpike,  about  a  mile  and  a  half  south 
of  the  town. 

Jackson  had  evacuated  Winchester,  and  was  completely  out  of 
the  clutch  of  his  adversaries,  at  the  moment  when  they  were 
preparing  to  charge  him  in  his  earthworks  north  of  the  place. 

The  infantry  had  thus  disappeared — and  soon  the  cavalry  were 
seen  falling  back  slowly,  in  a  long,  dark  line  through  the  town, 
their  rear  skirmishing  with  the  advancing  enemy. 


162  SURRY    OF    EAGLE'S-NEST. 

XLIV. 

A    FEAT    OF   HORSEMANSHIP. 

In  falling  back,  Jackson  left  absolutely  notbing  behind  for  his 
adversary.  Every  thing  was  removed,  and  the  laughing  infantry 
greeted  with  jests  and  cheers  an  enormous  railway  engine,  which, 
drawn  by  a  long  string  of  horses,  moved  on  with  the  rest. 

Jackson  remained  last,  and  his  critical  eyes  peered  in  every 
direction,  to  discover  whether  any  thing  had  been  forgotten. 

"Is  every  thing  removed,  Major?"  he  said  to  his  chief  quar- 
termaster, Major  Harman. 

"  Every  thing,  General." 

"  No  commissary  stores  whatever  are  left?" 

"None,  General." 

"  And  those  broken  cars  at  the  dep6t  ?" 

"  They  can  not  be  moved." 

"  Burn  them,  Major." 

"  I  will,  at  once,  sir." 

"And  the  telegraph  wire?" 

"Is  cut,  sir." 

"But  is  it  removed?" 

"No,  General.'] 

"Remove  it,  Major." 

Jackson  then  added :  "  Take  your  time.  I  am  in  no  hurry  to 
leave  Winchester."* 

Soon,  the  broken  cars  were  burning,  the  wire  was  rolled  up 
and  placed  in  wagons,  and  the  work  was  complete. 

"  Very  good,"  said  Jackson,  when  the  report  was  brought  to 
him  ;  and  he  sat  down  under  a  tree,  and,  folding  his  hands  across 
his  breast,  fell  quietly  asleep. 

He  had  been  up  all  night,  and  never  was  able  to  go  without 
sleep. 

The  steady  approach  of  the  firing  now  indicated  that  the  enemy 

*  His  words. 


A    FEAT    OF    HORSEMANSHIP.  163 

were  pressing  Ashby  closely,  near  the  northern  suburbs  of  the 
town.  I  rode  in  that  direction,  and,  reaching  the  rising  ground 
at  the  head  of  Loudoun  street,  where  the  remains  of  the  old  fort, 
built  by  Major  George  Washington,  about  1756,  may  still  be  seen, 
encouutered  the  cavalry,  falling  back  in  good  order  before  the 
Federal  advance.  The  rear-guard,  under  personal  command  of 
Ashby,  who  was  mounted  on  a  snow-white  horse,  was  dispu- 
ting obstinately  every  foot  of  ground ;  the  main  column  mean- 
while defiling  through  the  streets,  to  form  in  line  south  of  the 
town. 

I  had  just  reached  this  point,  when  a  sudden  rush  of  the  Fed- 
eral cavalry  broke  through  the  rear-guard,  and  before  I  knew  it, 
almost,  I  was  by  Ashby's  side,  in  the  midst  of  a  squadron  of 
blue-coats,  banging  away  with  their  pistols,  and  slashing  with 
their  sabres.  The  sweep  of  Ashby's  weapon  was  magnificent, 
and  he  seemed  to  launch  himself  from  the  saddle  at  every  blow. 
Never  had  I  seen  more  imperial  horsemanship.  He  and  his 
splendid  animal  seemed  one,  and  it  is  impossible  to  describe  his 
face.     It  was  on  fire — the  eyes  blazed — he  looked  happy. 

I  had  no  time  to  bestow  upon  him  more  than  a  glance,  how- 
ever. A  sabre-cut  nearly  uuseated  me,  aud  the  blue  cordon  was 
all  around  us,  when  a  determined  charge  from  one  of  Ashby's 
squadrons  drove  back  the  enemy,  and  he  chased  them  two  hun- 
dred yards  north  of  the  place. 

"  Rather  close  quarters,  Major,"  said  Ashby,  whose  face  glowed 
hotly.     "  I  don't  like  to  be  '  crowded.'  " 

And,  placing  himself  at  the  head  of  his  men,  he  waved  his 
sword,  and  cried  in  a  clear,  calm  voice,  strikingly  in  contrast 
with  his  irate  appearance : 

"Follow  me!"     * 

Those  clear  accents  seemed  to  thrill  the  men.  They  responded 
with  a  wild  cheer ;  and,  driving  his  white  horse  to  furious  speed, 
Ashby  burst  upon  the  Federal  line  like  a  tornado. 

Before  that  furious  onslaught,  so  sudden  and  desperate,  the 
enemy's  cavalry  gave  way.  Ashby  was  in  front  of  his  line,  cut- 
ting right  and  left  with  the  sabre;  and  when,  a  few  minutes  after- 
ward, he  came  back,  his  white  horse  dancing  on  all  four  feet,  as 


164  SURRY    OF    EAGLE'S-NEST. 

the  nervous  hand  reined  him  in  amid  a  shower  of  balls,  his  face 
was  calmer  :  for  the  moment  he  seemed  satisfied. 

He  continued  to  retire  slowly,  and  reached  the  suburbs  of  the 
town.  The  enemy  did  not  at  once  move  forward.  The  Confed- 
erate cavalry  passed  through,  and  it  was  not  until  I  reached  the 
southern  suburbs  that  I  missed  Ashby. 

Turning,  I  saw  him  seated  on  his  white  horse  in  the  middle  of 
Loudoun  street,  looking  quietly  at  the  Federal  cavalry  and  infan- 
try pouring  into  the  place.  It  is  impossible  to  conceive  any  thing 
more  calmly  indifferent  than  his  attitude.  He  seemed  to  have 
taken  his  place  there  to  witness  some  peaceful  pageant,  and  to 
regard  the  advance  of  the  Federal  masses,  now  nearly  in  contact 
with  him,  with  languid  curiosity. 

All  at  once,  some  shots  were  fired  at  him,  but  he  took  no  no- 
tice of  them.  This  seemed  to  enrage  the  enemy,  and  a  detach- 
ment charged  him  at  full  gallop,  firing  as  they  came. 

Ashby  waved  his  hat  around  his  head,  uttered  a  cheer,  and 
then,  drawing  his  revolver,  galloped  off,  firing  as  he  went. 

He  had  nearly  reached  the  suburbs,  when  suddenly  I  saw  two 
Federal  cavalrymen  issue  from  a  side  street,  and  post  themselves 
in  the  middle  of  the  street  to  intercept  him.  I  rode  rapidly  for- 
ward to  warn  him  of  his  danger  ;  but  it  was  not  necessary.  He 
turned,  saw  them,  and  charged  the  two  men,  with  a  glow  of  un- 
mistakable pleasure  upon  his  features.  One  fell,  shot  through 
the  heart;  then,  his  barrels  being  all  emptied,  he  seized  the 
second  by  the  throat. 

I  then  witnessed  one  of  those  spectacles  which  are  supposed  to 
be  confined  to  romances.  Borne  on  at  a  furious  speed  upon  his 
powerful  white  horse,  Ashby  dragged  his  adversary  clear  out  of 
the  saddle,  never  relaxed  his  clutch,  and  in  a  moment  was  beyond 
pursuit,  still  dragging  his  prisoner  by  the  side  of  his  horse.* 

A  cheer  rose  from  his  men  as  Ashby  released  the  prisoner,  and 
coolly  looked  to  the  disposition  of  his  command.  His  face  was 
again  calm ;  the  sad  expression  had  come  back ;  and  when  he 
said,  "Well,  Major,  they  are  laughing  at  us  yonder,  I  suppose, 

*  Historical. 


so 


a 


W 


a 

M 
o 

W 
o 

H 

W 
EH 


O 
H 

OQ 

o 


THE    "FOOT    CAVALRY."  165 

by  this  time,"  his  voice  was  as  sweet  and  gentle  as  when  speak- 
ing of  his  dead  brother. 


XLY. 

THE  "FOOT   CAVALRY." 

I  had  seen  Jackson  advance  and  fight :  I  was  now  to  see  him 
retreat.  The  world  at  large,  which  judges  of  every  thing  super- 
ficially, undervalues  the  art  of  "falling  back;"  but  it  is  one  of 
the  surest  evidences  of  soldiership.  Jackson's  method  of  retiring 
was  cool,  deliberate,  and  extorted  my  admiration.  More  than 
ever,  I  saw  in  him  those  resources  which  make  the  great  soldier. 

Ashby's  cavalry  brought  up  the  rear,  and  he  had  under  him  a 
battery  of  horse  artillery,  commanded  by  that  gallant  young  offi- 
cer, Captain  Chew.  The  roar  of  these  guns  was  never  hushed. 
It  saluted  the  ears  of  the  infantry,  as  they  lay  down  in  their 
bivouacs  to  snatch  a  few  hours  of  slumber,  and  was  their  reveille 
when  they  opened  their  eyes  at  dawn. 

Mingled  with  the  sullen  roar  of  the  guns  was  heard  incessantly 
almost  the  sharp  crack  of  carbines,  showing  that  the  cavalry 
skirmishers  were  engaged.  The  enemy  pressed  hotly  on  the 
rear ;  but  Ashby  met  them  with  a  coolness  and  an  indefatigable 
vigilance  which  defeated  all  their  attempts  to  throw  the  army 
into  disorder. 

I  was  much  with  him  in  those  days,  and  more  than  ever  ad- 
mired the  great  soldier — for  such  was  this  man.  It  was  impos- 
sible to  be  with  him  without  experiencing  both  admiration  for 
his  great  qualities  and  affection  for  him  personally.  He  was 
truly  the  flower  of  chivalry,  and  was  as  winning  by  the  camp- 
fire  as  he  was  utterly  fearless  in  the  field.  He  was  one  of  those 
men  who  seem  inaccessible  to  the  emotion  of  fear.  I  have  often 
seen  him  sitting  quietly  on  his  milk-white  horse,  gazing  from  a 
hill  upon  the  advancing  enemy,  who  poured  upon  him  a  storm 
of  balls — when  it  was  impossible  to  believe,  from  his  appearance, 
that  he  realized  his  danger.     I  have  seen  others  do  this  from 


166  SURRY    OF    EAGLE'S-NEST. 

bravado — but  it  did  not  so  impress  you  in  Ashby.  He  seemed 
to  be  thinking  of  something  else — but  at  times  the  spirit  of 
"fight"  came  to  his  face,  and  he  would  pace  slowly  up  and 
down  on  his  white  horse,  the  mark  of  a  hundred  bullets,  with 
his  face  turned  disdainfully  over  his  shoulder;  or  rein  in  his 
animal,  and,  like  an  equestrian  statue,  remain  in  face  of  the  hot 
fire,  completely  motionless. 

These  scenes  were  generally  followed  by  a  charge,  and  the 
flash  of  Ashby's  sabre,  as  he  led  it  in  person.  When  he  fell 
back  after  such  rencounters,  he  was  quieter  than  ever.  A  certain 
amount  of  fighting  every  day  seemed  necessary  to  his  peace  of 
mind. 

I  am  not  writing  a  romance,  or  inventing  a  hero,  worthy 
reader.     Such  was  Ashby  as  he  lived  and  moved  before  me. 

Thus,  incessantly  fighting  with  his  rear-guard,  Jackson  con- 
tinued his  retreat  up  the  Valley ;  and  ere  long  the  enemy  seemed 
to  grow  weary  of  the  pursuit — their  assaults  gradually  less 
determined — finally  they  stopped.  They  had  fallen  back  to 
Strasburg ;  thence,  as  scouts  reported,  to  Winchester ;  and  soon 
it  became  obvious  to  those  who  had  means  of  acquiring  accurate 
information,  that  the  Federal  authorities  had  determined  to  give 
up  the  idea  of  an  advance  by  way  of  the  Valley,  and  concentrate 
their  forces  near  Fredericksburg,  and  on  the  Peninsula,  for  an 
advance  upon  Richmond, 

Accurate  information  came  on  the  very  day  the  army  ceased 
retreating,  near  Newmarket.  The  weary  troops  had  scarcely 
gone  into  camp  when  a  courier  came  at  full  gallop  from  Ashby, 
who  held  the  front  toward  Strasburg. 

Jackson  read  the  dispatch  which  he  brought  with  great  atten- 
tion ;  reflected  as  much,  probably,  as  half  a  minute,  and  then 
directed  orders  to  be  issued  to  have  the  troops  ready  to  march  at 
daylight. 

In  their  exhausted  condition,  I  thought  this  utterly  impossible 
— but  at  dawn  the  little  army  of  about  four  thousand  men  was 
under  arms.  Jackson  rode  along  the  column,  looking  keenly  from 
under  his  faded  cap ;  and  then,  placing  himself  at  the  head  of  the 
troops,  took  the  direction  of  Winchester. 


THE    VALUE    OF    TEN    MINUTES.        167 

Without  relaxation — stopping  for  nothing — and  at  last,  accom- 
panied by  only  a  portion  of  his  force,  the  rest  having  broken 
down  from  the  enormous  rapidity  of  the  march,  he  reached,  at 
three  or  four  o'clock  on  a  raw  March  evening,  the  little  village 
of  Kernstown,  within  two  or  three  miles  of  "Winchester. 


XLVI. 

THE   VALUE   OF   TEN    MINUTES. 

The  troops  were  so  utterly  broken  down  that  I  did  not  dream 
of  any  further  movement  that  day.  The  men  would  stagger, 
and  even  fall,  if  they  accidentally  placed  their  feet  upon  a  rolling 
stone ;  they  lay  down  in  the  road  at  every  momentary  cessation 
of  the  advance ;  and  their  haggard  faces,  more  than  all  else, 
betrayed  the  immense  prostration  of  the  whole  command.  Under 
these  circumstances,  I  did  not  deem  it  credible,  although  Ashby 
had  found  the  enemy  in  our  immediate  front,  that  an  attack 
would  be  made  that  day.     I  did  not  know  Jackson. 

"Major,"  he  said,  with  great  coolness,  "the  troops  seem 
somewhat  tired." 

"  They  are  broken  down,  General." 

"  But  they  retain  their  good  spirits  ?" 
'Admirably,  sir." 

""Well,  I  am  going  to  attack." 

As  he  spoke,  Ashby  appeared,  approaching  at  full  speed,  and 
soon  checked  his  horse  and  saluted. 

"Any  news,  Colonel?" 

"Very  important,  General.  I  have  just  received  intelligence 
from  one  of  my  scouts,  who  is  entirely  reliable,  that  a  column 
of  about  fifteen  thousand  men,  under  General  "Williams,  has 
passed  the  Blue  Ridge,  and  is  making  in  the  direction  of  the 
Rappahannock." 

Jackson's  eye  glittered  under  his  cap,  and  he  moved  his  head 
up  and  down  in  a  way  common  with  him. 

"  Any  thing  further,  Colonel?" 


168  SURRY    OF    EAGLE'S-NEST. 

"I  am  fighting  them  in  front,  and  the  force  here  seems  larger 
than  we  supposed.  I  think  a  shell  wounded  one  of  their  general 
officers — perhaps  my  glasses  deceived  me,  however." 

Jackson  nodded  gravely  again,  looked  thoughtfully  toward 
Winchester,  and  said  : 

"Continue  to  press  them  on  the  turnpike,  Colonel,  and  send 
me  prompt  intelligence  of  any  movement.  I  am  going  to 
attack." 

"  I  am  glad  to  hear  it,  General — I  was  afraid  the  troops  were 
too  much  exhausted." 

"  They  are  very  much  so — but  any  delay  will  give  the  enemy 
time  to  bring  up  re-enforcements.  Besides,  the  advance  of  the 
column  under  Williams  must  be  arrested." 

Ashby  bowed. 

"  You  desire  me,  then,  to  make  a  determined  attack?" 

"  I  will  be  glad  if  you  will  do  so,  Colonel.  My  line  of  battle 
will  be  formed  here."  Ashby  saluted  again,  disappeared  at  full 
gallop,  and  soon  the  rapid  and  continuous  firing  in  front  showed 
that  he  had  attacked  with  ardor. 

Line  of  battle  was  now  rapidly  formed,  and,  exhausted  as  they 
were,  the  troops  were  full  of  alacrity.  The  force  numbered  three 
thousand  muskets,  and,  I  think,  about  four  or  five  batteries. 

Jackson  was  rapidly  making  his  dispositions,  when  a  courier 
from  Ashby  announced  that  the  enemy  were  moving  to  flank  his 
left.  The  General's  quick  nod  indicated  that  he  had  expected 
this ;  and  Fulkerson's  Brigade,  of  two  regiments,  supported  by 
the  Stonewall  Brigade,  was  immediately  moved  rapidly  in  that 
direction.  Other  forces  were  pushed  forward  under  heavy  fire 
from  the  Federal  guns  on  a  hill  in  front,  and  the  rattle  of 
musketry  on  the  left  soon  indicated  that  the  action  had  begun. 

The  battle  of  Kernstown  was  fought  between  the  turnpike 
and  the  North  Mountain,  on  rolling  ground,  partly  ploughed, 
partly  wooded,  and  the  rest  overgrown  with  broom-straw.  The 
fields  were  divided  by  worm-fences  and  stone  walls — that  ever- 
recurring  feature  of  the  landscapes  of  the  Valley. 

Jackson  hastened  to  form  his  line  on  an  elevated  piece  of 
ground,  and,  calling  my  attention  to  a  heavy  stone  wall  which 
extended  in  front  of  his  left,  said  : 


THE    VALUE    OF    TEN    MINUTES.       169 

"  Tell  Colonel  Fulkerson  to  secure  that  wall." 

I  had  soon  reached  the  point  indicated  and  delivered  my  mes- 
sage, which  was  followed  by  an  instant  advance  of  Fulkerson's 
two  regiments  to  gain  the  desired  cover. 

I  had  not  arrived  a  moment  too  soon.  As  his  line  advanced 
from  the  woods  into  the  field,  through  the  centre  of  which  the 
wall  ran  between  him  and  his  adversaries,  the  United  States 
flag  was  suddenly  seen  in  the  edge  of  the  woods  on  the  opposite 
side  ;  a  long  surging  line  of  blue  coats  appeared  ;  and,  like  their 
opponents,  they  rushed  forward  to  gain  the  wall. 

The  field  was  several  hundred  yards  in  width,  and  both  lines 
had  a  race  for  the  prize.  The  spectacle  was  exciting.  The 
opposing  flags  flaunted  defiance  as  their  bearers  rushed  on — the 
long  lines  crackled  with  musketry  as  they  rolled  forward — and 
for  a  moment  it  was  impossible  to  decide  which  would  reach  the 
wall  first.  My  heart  was  in  my  throat— it  was  a  question  of  life 
or  death  to  many  a  brave  fellow  that  he  should  gain  that  cover 
— with  straining  eyes  I  followed  the  headlong  race. 

Suddenly  I  rose  in  the  saddle  and  shouted.  Fulkerson  had 
gained  the  wall  when  the  Federal  line  was  within  thirty  yards 
of  it ;  and,  dropping  on  their  knees,  the  men  rested  muskets  on 
the  stonework,  and  delivered  a  staggering  volley  in  the  very 
faces  of  their  opponents. 

Then  rose  a  wild  cheer.  I  saw  the  Federal  flag  go  down. 
The  next  moment  their  whole  line  broke  and  retreated,  leaving 
the  ground  strewed  with  dead. 

I  went  to  carry  the  intelligence  to  Jackson,  and  found  him 
leading  a  charge  of  his  centre,  composed  of  the  Stonewall 
brigade — a  mere  handful  to  be  called  by  the  name — and  other 
troops.  It  was  now  obvious  that  the  Federal  force  in  his  front 
was  considerable;  and,  in  fact,  it  was  afterward  ascertained  to 
number  eleven  thousand  men,  of  whom  about  eight  thousand 
were  probably  engaged.  Jackson's  force  "  up "  was  three 
thousand  and  eighty-seven,  of  which  number  two  thousand 
seven  hundred  and  forty-two  were  engaged.* 

♦See  Jackson's  report 


1<T0  SURRY    OF    EAGLE'S-NEST. 

The  sun  was  now  declining,  and  the  blood-red  rays  began  to 
pour  their  crimson  stream  upon  the  woods,  and  across  the  fields 
of  broom-straw  waving  in  the  melancholy  wind.     The  battle 
was  raging  furiously  from  end  to  end  of  the  field,  and  charge 
after  charge  was  made  by  the  Federal  and  Confederate  lines- 
each  in  turn— while  the  shell  from  the  opposing  batteries  raced 
overhead,  crashing  amid  the  timber,  or  descending  on  the  heads 
of  the  combatants  in  iron  showers.     I  never  saw  a  more  deter- 
mined struggle,  and  the  men  of  the  South  fought  that  day  with 
heroic  gallantry.     To  see  raw  volunteers  maintain  their  ground 
with  such  unflinching   nerve   was  a  grand    and  noble   specta- 
cle ;  and  the  long  crash  of  musketry,  rising  and  falling  on  the 
wind,  was  like  the  determined  and  steady  fire  of  veterans  up- 
holding upon  some  world-famous  field  the  destinies  of  a  nation. 
And  they  were  all  Virginians,  if  you  leave  out  twenty  or  thirty 
Marylanders.     The  men  who  fought  here  were  the  youths  of  the 
Valley,  in  sight  almost  of  their  homes.     It  was  this  which  must 
have  made  them  stand  so  obstinately,  and  charge  with  that  fierce 
enthusiasm  which  nothing  could  overcome.     Three  times  I  saw 
the  Federal  banner  fall ;  and  once,  as  the  long  gray  line  rolled 
forward,   blazing    everywhere   with  musketry,  I   thought,  and 
still  think,  that  the  enemy  were  on  the  point  of  giving  way. 
The  victorious  Southerners  were  carrying  every  thing    before 
them  then,  when  suddenly  a  fresh  Federal  regiment,  which  had 
been  lying  down  behind  a  crest,  rose  up  and  met  them  with  a 
yell.     They  Avere  forced   back   by   this   fresh   and  thoroughly- 
ammunitioned  line.     They  slowly  retired ;  and  I  remembered  the 
occurrence    afterward,    when   a   Federal  officer    said  that    the 
stand  made  by  one  of  their  regiments  "  alone  saved  them." 

Thus  the  battle  reeled  to  and  fro  upon  the  bleak  fields,  and 
the  shades  of  night  began  to  descend— each  line  moving  still 
toward  the  left  to  outflank  its  opponents.  A  sort  of  fury  seemed 
to  inspire  the  combatants — they  fought  like  tigers.  Meanwhile, 
the  thunder  of  Ashby's  guns  came  in  a  long,  continuous  roll 
from  the  extreme  right  on  the  turnpike,  where  they  were 
pressing  him  hard  ;  and  on  the  extreme  left  the  incessant  crash 
of  musketry  told  how  fierce  the  fight  was  there. 


THE    VALUE    OF    TEN    MINUTES.       171 

It  was  at  this  critical  moment,  when  the  opposing  lines  had 
grappled  breast  to  breast,  that  the  old  Stonewall  Brigade, 
which  had  borne  the  brunt  of  the  fight,  was  seen  to  waver  and 
retire. 

Jackson's  eyes  darted  lightning  as  he  galloped  to  the  spot,  and, 
seizing  a  drummer  boy,  he  growled : 

"Beat  the  rally!" 

The  drum  rolled,  and  the  line  re-formed.  The  brave  Gar- 
nett  had  only  ordered  it  to  retire  a  short  distance,  as  the  ammu- 
nition of  the  men  was  entirely  expended,  and  the  brigade  was 
re-formed  without  difficulty  under  the  hot  fire. 

But  the  battle  was  lost — the  enemy's  numbers  swept  every 
thing.  They  were  closing  in  rapidly  on  both  flanks,  and  driving 
the  centre.     The  day  was  decided. 

What  the  eye  saw  then  by  the  last  light  of  day  was  an  army 
falling  slowly  and  sullenly  back,  with  a  victorious  enemy  closely 
pressing  them.  Jackson  was  thus  fairly  beaten — but  here  is 
a  strange  fact : 

I  was  retreating  like  the  rest,  when  a  cavalry-man,  crossing 
the  field  at  full  gallop,  recognized  me,  and  asked  for  General 
Jackson. 

"  A  dispatch  from  Ashby?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

I  seized  and  opened  it.  There  was  just  light  enough  in  the 
sky  to  read  it  by. 

It  was  in  these  words,  hastily  traced  with  a  pencil : 

"  General  : — Hold  your  ground  only  ten  minutes  longer,  and 
the  enemy  will  fall  back.  I  have  captured  a  courier  from  General 
Shields.     His  line  is  ordered  to  retire. 

"  Ashby." 

In  five  minutes  I  had  found  Jackson,  and  given  him  the  note. 
He  was  sitting  his  horse  in  the  midst  of  the  retreating  troops, 
without  exhibiting  emotion  of  any  sort ;  and  read  the  note  from 
Ashby  without  moving  a  muscle  in  his  face. 

"  I  thought  so,"  was  all  he  said  in  his  curtest  tones,  as  he 
crumpled  up  and  dropped  the  paper.     "  It  is  too  late." 


172  SUKRY    OF    EAGLE'S-NEST. 

And  he  turned  his  horse's  head  and  rode  on  with  the  retiring 
forces.  We  were  approaching  Newtown,  about  five  miles 
from  the  field,  when  the  voice  of  Major  Harman,  chief  quarter- 
master, was  heard  in  the  darkness. 

"  Where  is  your  train,  Major  ?"  was  Jackson's  brief  question. 

"  Gone  to  the  rear,  General." 

"  Bring  it  back." 

Major  Harman  bowed  and  was  moving  off. 

"  See  that  rations  are  issued  to  the  men — they  will  camp  here 
to-night."* 

And  he  rode  on.  Darkness  had  now  fully  descended,  and  the 
enemy,  who  had  steadily  followed,  came  to  a  halt.  They  seemed 
to  fear  the  presence  of  reserves — and  upon  this  Jackson,  no 
doubt,  counted.  He  certainly  betrayed  no  sort  of  intention  to 
hurry  away  from  the  dangerous  proximity,  and  the  men  were 
soon  ordered  to  halt,  build  fires,  and  cook  rations.  It  was  a 
picturesque  spectacle — the  long  lines  of  twinkling  fires  far  down 
the  turnpike,  and  the  dusky  groups  laughing  and  jesting  around 
them. 

Jackson  sat  down  by  a  fire,  so  near  the  enemy  that  we  could 
hear  the  men  talking  around  their  fires.  Here  he  dictated  his 
orders  :  these  directed  the  troops  to  move  at  daylight. 

While  thus  engaged,  some  intrusive  personage,  who  had 
strolled  up,  said  : 

"  A  bad  day,  General." 

"  I  feel  very  well,"t  was  the  curt  response,  accompanied  by  a 
look  which  checked  all  further  words.  The  General  then  went 
on  munching  a  piece  of  corn-bread,  which  he  had  taken  from 
his  pocket,  and  giving  his  orders.  Having  finished,  he  picked 
up  an  armful  of  corn  which  was  lying  in  the  road,  and,  carrying 
it  to  a  fence  corner  where  his  horse  was  standing,  gave  it  to  the 
animal.  Here  some  rails  bad  been  collected  and  a  fire  kindled; 
and  saying  to  Major  Pendleton,  his  adjutant-general,  "  wake 
me  up  at  four  in  the  morning,  Major,"  he  wrapped  himself  in 
his  blanket,  stretched  himself  upon  the  ground,  and  immediately 
fell  asleep.  | 

*  Historical.  t  Ilis  words.  }  Historical. 


THE    WOINDED    OFFICER.  173 

Before  daylight  he  had  mounted  his  horse,  and  the  forces 
were  in  motion,  retreating  up  the  Valley. 

Such  was  the  hattle  of  Kernstown — a  hard  fight,  and  fair 
defeat.  "  But  such  was  the  discipline  of  Jackson's  forces,"  says 
General  Shields  in  his  report,  "that  at  no  time  during  the  fight 
or  retreat  did  they  give  way  t©  panic." 


XLVII. 

THE    OFFICER   "WHOM   ASHBY   HAD   "WOUNDED. 

I  was  riding  by  General  Jackson,  when  he  suddenly  reined  in 
his  horse,  and  for  a  moment  seemed  lost  in  reflection. 

"I  do  not  like  to  leave  my  wounded,"  he  said,  "  and  my  dead 
unburied." 

He  looked  toward  Winchester,  and  added,  turning  all  at  once 
to  me : 

"I  wish  you  would  attend  to  this,  Major." 

"  I  any  way  you  indicate,  General." 

"  Well,  suppose  you  try  if  they  will  let  you  remain  under  a  flag 
of  truce.  General  Shields  may  consent  to  it.  You  can  appeal  to 
our  friends  among  the  citizens  to  do  what  I  cannot." 

I  saluted,  and  was  going. 

"Stay,  I  will  give  you  your  credentials." 

And,  tearing  a  sheet  from  his  note-book,  he  wrote  in  pencil : 

"General: — The  bearer,  Major  Surry,  of  my  staff,  is  sent  to 
superintend  the  burial  of  my  dead  in  the  action  yesterday,  and 
look  after  the  wounded.  I  have  the  honor  to  request  that  he 
may  be  permitted  to  pass  your  lines  for  that  purpose.  He  will 
give  any  parole  you  require. 

"  Very  respectfully,  your  obedient  servant, 

"T.  J.  Jackson, 
Muj.-GenH  Gom'd'g  G  S.  Forces:' 

"  I  think  that  will  answer,  Major." 
"Any  further  instructions,,  General?" 


174  SURRY    OF    EAGLE'S-NEST. 

"None.     I  rely  upon  your  good  judgment  and  discretion." 

He  held  out  his  hand,  gave  mine  a  friendly  grasp,  and, 
adding,  "I  shall  expect  you  back  soon,"  rode  on  toward  Stras- 
burg. 

I  turned  my  horse's  head  toward  "Winchester,  and  rode  through 
the  dim  light  in  the  direction  of  the  enemy,  whose  camp-fires 
were  glimmering  upon  the  hills  in  front. 

Ere  long  I  encountered  the  dark  masses  of  Ashby's  cavalry, 
drawn  up  across  the  road  in  line  of  battle  to  cover  the  rear  of 
the  retreating  army.  Their  commander  was  in  the  saddle,  on 
the  turnpike,  listening  for  any  movement. 

"Well,  Major,"  he  said,  in  his  gentle  voice,  "this  is  rather  an 
ugly  business,  but  we  gave  them  a  good  hard  fight." 

"Yes—  it  is  a  pity  we  could  not  have  held  our  ground  a  little 
longer." 

"I  see  you  read  my  dispatch." 

"Yes." 

"Shields  would  have  fallen  back  in  a  few  minutes.  I  know 
this  to  be  so."* 

"Well,  he  is  going,  instead,  to  follow  us  up;  but  I  don't  ex- 
pect to  be  with  you  this  time." 

"Why?" 

"I  am  sent  back — if  I  can  get  through  the  Federal  line." 

And  I  explained  my  orders. 

"It  is  day,"  was  Ashby's  reply,  as  he  looked  up ;  "yon  can 
go  to  their  picket  without  danger.  I  will  pass  you  through  my 
own." 

And  he  rode  with  me  through  his  own  picket,  until  we  were 
in  sight  of  that  of  the  enemy,  where,  with  a  grasp  of  the  hand, 
we  parted. 

Waving  a  white  handkerchief,  I  approached  the  Federal  picket, 
and  was  halted  by  the  vedette,  who  passed  the  word  to  his  offi- 
cer. 

T  explained  my  object  to  the  officer,  who  was  a  very  courteous 
person,  and,  not  to  weary  the  reader  with  the  various  personages 

*  Mis  words. 


THE    WOUNDED    OFFICER.  175 

whom  I  was  carried  before  in  succession,  was  conducted  to  a 
house  some  miles  in  the  rear.  Here  I  found  General  Shields 
lying  upon  a  sofa,  with  his  arm  in  a  bandage. 

"Major  Surry,  I  believe,"  was  his  formal  greeting. 

"Yes,  General." 

"From  General  Jackson?" 

I  bowed. 

"  Your  object  in  coming  into  my  lines  is  to  superintend  the 
burial  of  your  dead,  and  the  care  of  the  wounded  ?" 

I  bowed  again. 

"  If  not  contrary  to  your  views,  I  would  be  glad  to  secure  that 
permission,  General." 

He  evidently  hesitated,  but  at  last  said: 

"  "Well,  I  shall  grant  General  Jackson's  request,  sir,  though  the 
whole  affair  is  irregular.  One  of  my  staff  will  accompany  and 
assist  you."  - 

And  he  sent  an  orderly  for  the  officer. 

"  Were  you  in  the  action  yesterday,  Major  ?" 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  It  was  a  hot  affair.  I  confess  I  should  like  to  know,  as  a 
matter  of  pure  curiosity,  what  numbers  you  had  engaged." 

I  began  to  laugh. 

"  Oh  !  that  would  not  interest  you.  General." 

"  I  see  you  refuse  to  tell  me.  I  asked  from  pure  curiosity, 
and  only  wished  to  know  if  I  was  right  in  estimating  the  foro  at 
fifteen  thousand." 

To  this  I  made  no  reply. 

"General  Jackson  is  a  hard  fighter,"  he  continued;  "and  Gen- 
eral Ashby,  of  your  cavalry,  handles  mine  rather  roughly.  I  am 
indebted  to  him  for  this  wound." 

Here  the  staff  officer  who  had  been  sent  for  entered  and 
saluted  the  General,  who  instructed  him  to  ride  with  me  to  the 
battle-field,  and  render  me  any  assistance,  returning  with  me  in 
the  evening  to  his  head-quarters. 

"  Major  Surry  will  not  be  allowed  to  communicate  with  any 
one,"  he  added,  "except  upon  the  subject  of  his  mission." 

I  bowed,  and  was  leaving  the  room,  when  the  General  said : 


176  SURRY    OF    EAGLE'S-NEST. 

"  By  the  by,  Major,  what  did  General  Jackson  think  of  yester- 
day's fight  ?     Does  he  acknowledge  himself  fairly  whipped  ?" 

The  temptation  was  irresistible  to  fire  a  parting  shot : 

"He  has  some  curious  ideas  about  the  action,  General." 

"What  are  they?" 

"He  believes,  among  other  things,  that,  if  he  had  held  his 
ground  a  little  longer,  you  would  have  retreated  from  the  field." 

"Ah!  ah!" 

"  And  even  that  you  had  actually  issued  the  order  for  your 
line  to  fall  back." 

The  General  uttered  a  constrained  laugh. 

"  What  could  have  put  such  an  absurd  idea  in  anybody's  head, 
Major  ?     But  I  am  detaining  you." 

As  he  spoke,  the  sound  of  firing  came  from  the  front — the 
long  roll  of  the  opposing  batteries. 

"I  must  go  there,"  muttered  the  General,  as  I  left  the  apart- 
ment. 

Accompanied  by  my  elegantly  dressed  companion,  a  young 
officer  of  the  staff,  I  now  rode  toward  the  scene  of  the  late 
action — the  firing  in  front  growing  heavier,  but  gradually  re- 
ceding as  we  went  along. 


XLYIII. 

THE  DEATH-TRENCHES. 

A  shoet  ride  brought  us  to  the  battle-field  of  the  preceding 
day.     The  scene  which  greeted  my  eyes  was  heart-rending. 

The  citizens  of  Winchester  had  already  been  at  work,  and 
long  trenches  had  been  dug  to  receive  the  Confederate  dead. 
They  were  still  busily  at  work ;  and  near  at  hand  were  detach- 
ments of  Federal  soldiers  engaged  in  the  same  duty  toward  tbeir 
own. 

The  blustering  March  wind  blew,  chill  and  cutting,  over  the 
great  fields  of  broom-straw,  which  gave  forth  a  rustling  sigh, 
like  that  from  some  host  of  invisible  mourners;  the  sky  was 


THE    DEATH-TRENCHES.  177 

overcast  by  a  curtain  of  dark  clouds,  through  which  the  dim 
light  of  day  scarcely  struggled ;  and  on  all  sides,  to  render  the 
depressing  influence  of  the  scene  complete,  were  the  wounded, 
thy  dying,  and  the  dead. 

There  was  one  feature  of  the  spectacle,  however,  which  affected 
me  more  than  all  the  rest. 

With  the  mayor  and  citizens  of  Winchester,  there  had  come 
forth  to  the  battle-field  a  number  of  ladies.  Their  object  was  to 
seek  for  friends  or  relatives  among  the  corpses — for  Jackson'a 
forces  were  almost  wholly  from  the  Valley  ;  and  these  mourners 
now  passed  from  group  to  group  of  bodies,  trying  to  recognize 
some  husband,  father,  or  brother  among  the  dead. 

As  the  corpses  were  brought  up,  carried  by  two  men  holding 
the  feet  and  shoulders,  to  be  deposited  in  the  death-trench,  the 
veiled  figures  bent  down,  peering  with  deep  sobs  in  the  faces  of 
the  dead ;  and,  as  some  relative  or  friend  was  identified,  a  wail 
would  rise  upon  the  air,  which  sent  a  thrill  even  through  the 
Federal  officers  who  were  present. 

I  was  standing  with  my  companion,  the  young  staff-officer, 
near  the  death-trench,  superintending  the  work,  when  suddenly 
a  beautiful  girl,  of  not  more  than  fifteen  or  sixteen,  with  profuse 
auburn  curls  and  a  figure  as  fragile  as  a  blossom,  rushed  forward 
from  the  group,  and,  throwing  herself  upon  her  knees  beside  the 
corpse  of  a  boy  just  brought  up,  burst  into  such  an  agony  of 
weeping,  that  her  heart  seemed  about  to  break. 

"O  brother!'1  she  exclaimed,  "they  have  killed  you!  I 
thought  you  were  spared  1  O  God,  they  have  killed  my  bro- 
ther!" 

And  with  both  arms  round  the  body  of  the  boy,  whose  lips 
were  smiling  even  in  death,  she  drew  the  cold  face  close  to  her 
own,  and  covered  it  with  passionate  kisses. 

"  Oh,  I  will  never  see  him  any  more!"  sobbed  the  girl  in  an 
agony  of  grief ;  uhe  will  never  more  speak  to  me!  My  dear, 
dear  brother,  that  I  loved  so!  Oh,  my  heart  will  break!  Bro- 
ther! brother!     Oh,  my  poor  dead  brother  !" 

And,  half-fainting  on  the  corpse,  she  seemed  about  to  expire 
from  excoss  of  grief. 
8* 


178  SURKY    OF   EAGLE'S-NEST. 

My  companion,  the  young  staff-officer,  put  his  handkerchief  to 
his  eyes : 

"  This  is  terrible,  Major,"  he  said. 

And  stepping  forward,  he  said  to  the  young  lady  : 

"Don't  cry  so — you  cannot  bring  him  back!" 

The  girl  raised  her  wet  face,  over  which  fell  the  disordered 
curls  all  dabbled  in  tears;  but,  at  sight  of  the  officer  in  his 
elegant  Federal  uniform,  her  cheeks  suddenly  filled  with  blood, 
and  her  eyes  flashed. 

Rising  with  a  bound  almost  to  her  feet,  her  figure  grew  stiil 
and  erect  as  an  arrow,  and  she  exclaimed  with  passionate 
vehemence : 

"  What  right  have  you  to  speak  to  me !  Yon  killed  him  1 
But  for  you,  he  would  be  alive  to  love  me  now !" 

The  young  officer  almost  recoiled  before  this  outburst. 

"  Yes,  you  killed  him  !"  exclaimed  the  girl.  "  Why  did  your 
people  invade  our  country,  and  kill  him  for  defending  it  1 
But  you  will  never  conquer  us!  We  will  never  yield  !  We  will 
shed  the  last  drop  of  our  blood  before  you  shall  trample  on  us!" 

As  she  uttered  these  words,  the  girl  was  superb  in  her  passion- 
ate grief  and  scorn.  Her  eyes  blazed  through  the  hot  tears,  and 
the  red  lips,  half-parted,  showed  the  small  white  teeth  close 
set  together.     Never  shall  I  forget  that  face. 

She  was  led  away  by  her  friends  ;  my  young  companion  looked 
after  her  with  a  troubled  glance,  which  indicated  how  much 
her  grief  had  moved  him ;  and  the  work  of  burying  the  dead 
proceeded  as  before.* 

By  sunset  the  bodies  were  all  interred — those  of  soldiers 
related  to  families  in  the  vicinity  having  been  removed  for  pri- 
vate interment — and  the  wounded  were  all  in  hospital  at  Win- 
chester. I  accordingly  bade  my  friend  the  mayor  and  his  as- 
sistants farewell,  and  returned  with  my  companion  to  General 
Shields's  head-quarters,  where,  however,  I  did  not  find  him.  The 
lady  of  the  house  supplied  me  with  a  comfortable  supper  and 
bed ;  and  on  the  next  day  an  orderly  brought  a  note  from  Gene- 

*  These  goenes  are  historical. 


THE    SECOND    RETREAT.  179 

ral  Shields,  summoning  the  young  officer  and  myself  to  Stras- 
hurg. 

As  we  approached  that  place,  we  encountered  the  Federal 
army  slowly  falling  back  toward  Winchester,  and  an  officer  from 
General  Shields  informed  me  that  I  was  free  to  return  to  Gene- 
ral Jackson. 

I  rode  along  the  blue  line,  my  gray  uniform  subjecting  me  to 
numerous  gibes,  and  at  last  found  myself  alone  on  the  turnpike. 
From  a  hill  I  looked  back.  Heavy  detachments  of  Federal  sol- 
diers were  felling  trees,  dragging  them  to  the  road,  and  barri- 
cading the  turnpike  in  the  rear  of  their  column.* 


XLIX 

THE   SECOND    RETREAT. 

Rejoicing  the  Confederate  column  near  Woodstock,  I  made  my 
report,  with  which  the  General  seemed  well  satisfied,  and  then 
informed  him  of  the  barricades  erected  in  the  enemy's  rear. 

He  smiled  grimly. 

"  Then  we  are  not  so  badly  defeated,  after  all,  Major." 

"It  seems  they  fear,  at  least,  that  you  will  return." 

44 1  accomplished  my  object.  General  Williams  has  come  back, 
with  fifteen  thousand  men,  to  the  Valley." 

"  What  force  did  you  fight  at  Kernstown,  General  ?" 

"About  eight  thousand,  I  think.  Scouts  report  eleven  thou- 
sand in  all  at  Winchester  before  the  action." 

"  Well,  that  gives  an  aggregate  of  twenty-six  thousand,  kept 
here  by  an  attack  from  three  thousand.  I  think  it  was  worth 
what  it  cost." 

And  the  conversation  turned  upon  something  else. 

The  army  continued,  its  retreat  until  it  reached  Rude's  Hill,  a 
lofty  elevation  near  Mount  Jackson,  and  here  it  went  into  camp 
and  rested. 

*  Historical. 


180  SURRY    OF    EAGLE'S-NEST. 

About  the  middle  of  April,  information  came  developing  the 
Federal  plan  of  campaign  for  the  coming  spring.  Richmond  was 
to  be  attacked  from  every  quarter.  General  McOlellan,  with  an 
army  of  more  than  one  hundred  thousand  men,  was  to  advance 
from  the  Peninsula,  between  the  James  and  York  ;  General  Mc- 
Dowell was  to  march  from  Fredericksburg,  with  forty  thousand 
men,  and  unite  with  McOlellan's  right  on  the  Ohickahominy ;  and 
in  tbe  Valley,  not  less  than  three  heavy  columns  were  to  assail 
Jackson.  General  Milroy  was  to  advance  from  the  mountains 
west  of  Staunton ;  General  Fremont  from  the  northwest ;  and, 
General  Banks,  from  Winchester,  straight  up  the  Valley. 

Uniting  near  Harrisonburg  or  Staunton,  these  three  columns 
were  to  drive  Jackson  before  them,  pursue  him  to  the  low  coun- 
try, and,  joining  General  McDowell's  right,  as  he  had  joined  Mc- 
Olellan, encircle  the  Confederate  capital  with  a  cordon  of  bayo- 
nets.    Then  exit  the  Confederacy. 

This  plan  became  developed,  as  I  have  said,  about  the  middle 
of  April,  when  Jackson  received  intelligence  that  Generals  Mil- 
roy, Fremont,  and  Banks  were  all  in  motion.  The  first  was 
approaching  from  Monterey ;  the  second  pressing  toward  Rom- 
ney ;  and  General  Banks  was  rapidly  advancing  with  a  heavy 
force  from  Winchester. 

"  They  seem  determined  to  drive  me  from  the  Valley,  Major," 
said  Jackson,  when  this  intelligence  came;  "but,  with  God's 
blessing,  I  hope  to  hold  my  ground,  if  not  drive  them  back." 

The  hope  seemed  desperate  to  me — and  yet  it  did  not.  I  had 
begun  to  believe  in  Jackson,  like  his  men.  In  spite  of  the  un- 
doubted defeat  which  he  sustained  at  Kernstown,  the  troops  had 
conceived  the  very  highest  admiration  for  him.  Whenever  he 
appeared  on  his  old  sorrel,  in  his  dingy  uniform,  they  cheered 
him  wildly ;  and  an  officer  told  me  that,  on  the  day  after  the 
battle,  the  men  "  went  crazy  about  him."  * 

From  Kernstown  dated  that  ardent  -.personal  attachment  of 
the  troops  to  their  leader — a  fac£  which  I  never  could  explain. 
Many  among  the  officers  who  had  been  with  General  Loring  con- 

*  Historical. 


THE    CHASE    AFTER    MILROY.  181 

tinued  to  sneer  at  him  as  "  crack-brained  ;"  but  the  men  would 
not  be  persuaded.  They  cheered  him  obstinately  whenever  ho 
appeared. 

General  Banks  now  pressed  forward.  His  column  reached  tho 
little  village  of  Edinburg ;  and  Jackson  broke  up  his  camp  at 
Rude's  Hill,  and  crossed  into  Elk  Run  Valley.  Here  he  could 
face  all  his  enemies,  and  retreat,  if  necessary,  upon  Richmond. 

But  that  I  knew  he  intended  to  do  only  in  the  last  resort. 


THE   CHASE   AFTER  MILROY. 

T  had  gone  to  carry  a  message  to  Colonel  Ashby,  and  spent 
the  night  with  him  on  the  outpost,  when  on  my  return  I  found 
the  infantry  in  motion,  and  soon  discovered  that  Jackson, 
now  re-enforced  by  General  Ewell's  division  from  Johnston's 
army,  was  going,  with  a  portion  of  his  army,  to  attack  General 
Milroy,  who  had  already  crossed  the  Shenandoah  Mountain, 
west  of  Staunton,  to  form  a  junction  with  General  Banks  at 
Harrisonburg. 

The  column  was  moved  with  great  rapidity — by  railway,  partly 
— and,  advancing  steadily  westward,  reached,  on  a  bright  even- 
ing, the  slope  of  the  Bull  Pasture  Mountain — the  enemy  retiring 
before  them. 

Here  General  Milroy's  advance  force  was  met  and  driven  back, 
and  on  the  next  morning  Jackson  rapidly  advanced  into  the 
narrow  defile  on  the  western  side  of  which  was  the  Valley  of 
McDowell,  occupied  in  force  by  his  adversary. 

The  battle  of  McDowell — upon  which  I  shall  not  dwell  long 
— was  an  obstinate  struggle  for  the  possession  of  Sutlington's  Hill, 
a  lofty  eminence  on  the  southern  side  of  the  gorge,  and  com- 
manding the  valley  in  which  General  Milroy  was  posted. 

The  quick  eye  of  Jackson  saw  speedily  that  this  was  the 
key  of  the  whole  position,  and  ho  lost  no  time  in  hurrying  for- 


182  SURRY    OF    EAGLE'S-NEST. 

ward  bis  regiments,  as  they  came  up,  to  secure  possession  of 
it.  Such  was  the  roughness  of  the  ground — a  steep  mountain- 
side, with  huge  masses  of  rock  cropping  out  at  every  step — that 
no  artillery  could  be  gotten  to  the  crest ;  and  the  infantry,  even, 
were  compelled  to  march  in  single  file,  winding  in  and  out  among 
the  huge  rocks  of  the  gorge. 

Scarcely  had  the  few  regiments  thus  hurried  forwai'd  formed 
a  thin  line  of  battle  on  the  hill,  when  the  Federal  forces,  which 
had  promptly  massed  in  front,  were  thrown  against  them,  and 
a  furious  conflict  commenced  for  the  coveted  position.  A  heavy 
column  was  first  hurled  against  Jackson's  left,  but,  after  a  fieroe 
conflict,  was  repulsed.  Then  the  dark  masses  were  seen  to  with- 
draw from  that  quarter  and  concentrate  in  front  of  the  Confed- 
erate right.  An  assault  more  determined  than  the  first  followed, 
to  turn  that  flank  ;  and  in  an  instant  the  opposing  lines  had  come 
together  with  a  crash  which  resembled  the  furious  roar  of  a 
mountain  storm.  The  rattle  of  musketry  and  the  bellowing  of 
the  Federal  artillery  reverberated  from  the  rocky  sides  of  the 
gorge,  until  the  ears  were  deafened,  and  the  opposing  lines  dis- 
appeared in  a  heavy  cloud,  which  concealed  completely  the 
whole  struggle. 

Suddenly  the  long-sustained  yell,  heard  from  the  Southern 
troops  whenever  they  gained  a  success,  rose  clear  and  ringing 
from  the  slope,  and  then  a  wind  swept  back  the  smoke — the  set- 
ting sun  lit  up  the  scene — and  the  Federal  line  was  seen  falling 
back,  pursued  by  its  adversaries. 

This  was  General  Milroy's  last  attempt.  lie  did  not  renew  the 
struggle  to  gain  possession  of  the  hill. 

With  the  coming  darkness,  the  battle  ceased,  and  the  men  lay 
down  in  line  of  battle,  ready  to  advance  and  attack  at  daylight. 

The  enemy  did  not  await  the  assault.  Toward  day,  the  woods 
in  the  valley  were  discovered  to  be  on  fire — the  flames  roared 
aloft,  forming  a  magnificent  spectacle — and  when  skirmishers 
were  thrown  forward,  the  Federal  camps  were  found  to  be 
deserted. 

General  Milroy  had  fallen  back  hastily,  to  avoid  the  heavy 
blow  which  he  foresaw  would  be  struck  at  him  on  the  return  of 


THE  CHASE  AFTER  MILROY.  183 

day ;  and  was  soon  discovered  to  be  in  full  retreat  toward  the 
town  of  Franklin. 

Jackson  rapidly  pursued  him,  and  reached  Franklin.  Here, 
however,  the  pursuit  ceased.  The  Federal  forces  were  found 
posted  in  a  strong  position  on  the  mountain  spurs  near  at  hand 
— and  again  General  Milroy  set  the  woods  on  fire,  to  conceal  his 
movements.  From  the  dense  smoke  which  rose,  darkening  the 
whole  horizon,  came  the  dull  roar  of  artillery  and  the  shriek  of 
shell. 

Jackson  had  accomplished  his  design  of  preventing  the  junc- 
tion between  Generals  Milroy  and  Banks  ;  and  to  attack  his  ad- 
versary, thus  strongly  posted  amid  the  mountain  fastnesses,  was 
no  part  of  his  plan.  He  accordingly  issued  orders  to  the  troops 
to  prepare  for  marching  back. 

Before  this  movement  commenced,  however,  a  solemn  cere- 
mony of  prayer  and  thanks  took  [dace  in  the  army. 

The  scene  was  imposing.  In  the  wild  amphitheatre,  sur- 
rounded by  fir-clad  mountains,  the  little  army  was  drawn  up,  as 
though  in  line  of  battle,  and  prayers  were  offered  by  the  chap- 
lains. As  they  spoke — the  men  listening  with  bent  heads,  un- 
covered— the  dull  roar  of  artillery  was  heard  in  front ;  and,  when 
the  speakers  ceased,  the  solemn  thunder  of  the  guns  filled  up  the 
pauses.  Overhead  was  the  bright  sun  in  a  blue  sky — the  mus- 
kets, neatly  stacked  in  long  rows,  shone  in  the  sunshine — soon 
every  man  had  taken  his  piece,  and  the  column  was  ready  to 
march. 

Returning  over  the  same  road,  and  repassing  the  Bull  Pasture 
Mountain,  Jackson  obliqued  to  the  left,  and  advanced  upon  Har- 
risonburg. 

As  he  approached  that  place,  intelligence  reached  him  that 
General  Banks  had  fallen  back  to  Strasburg. 


184  SURRY    OF    EAGLE'S-NEST. 

LI. 

THE    ADVANCE. 

I  was  riding  beside  Jackson  when  he  received  the  intelligence 
of  General  Banks's  retreat.  He  had  been  carelessly  glancing,  as 
he  rode  along,  at  a  copy  of  a  Northern  newspaper  captured  hy 
one  of  Ashby's  scouts;  and  I  saw  a  grim  smile  touch  upon  his 
features — then  fly  away. 

"  The  retreat  of  General  Banks  is  rather  curious,  after  this  par- 
agraph, Major,"  he  said. 

And  he  handed  me  the  paper,  pointing  with  his  finger  to  a  few 
lines  under  the  head  of  "Telegraphic." 

It  was  a  dispatch  from  General  Banks  to  the  authorities  at 
Washington,  dated  from  Harrisonburg  a  few  days  before,  an- 
nouncing that  "  the  rebel  Jackson  had  left  the  Valley,  and  was  in 
full  retreat  on  Richmond."* 

I  had  scarcely  finished  reading  the  paragraph,  when  Jackson 
said  to  his  adjutant-general,  the  brave  Major  Pendleton: 

"Major,  write  an  order  directing  General  Ewell  to  join  me, 
without  loss  of  time,  at  Newmarket,  with  his  entire  command. 
Say  'without  loss  of  time,'  Major." 

The  order  was  immediately  written  and  dispatched,  and  Jack- 
son continued  his  way,  reaching  Harrisonburg,  and  thence  press- 
ing forward  to  Newmarket. 

General  Ewell  promptly  appeared  at  the  rendezvous  with  his 
strong  division,  and  Jackson  met  him  with  great  cordiality.  He 
was  a  man  past  middle  age,  with  black  hair,  beard,  and  mustache, 
with  a  thin,  erect  figure,  sparkling  black  eyes,  and  a  manner  ab- 
rupt and  decisive.  The  General  differed  in  two  features  then 
from  his  subsequent  self.  He  had  not  received  his  severe  wound 
in  the  knee,  and  he  swore,  apparently  from  inveterate  habit.  It 
was  hard,  afterward,  to  recognize  in  the  pale,  thin  invalid,  com- 
manding a  great  army  corps,  and  scrupulously  decorous  in  all  his 
utterances,  the  bluff,  abrupt  soldier  of  the  Valley  campaign. 

*  Historical. 


THE    ADVANCE.  185 

"Well,  General,"  he  said,  "here  I  am.     Mv  division  is  up." 

"  Thanks  for  your  promptness,  General." 

"Banks  has  retreated  to  Strasburg." 

"  Yes." 

"And  you  are  about  to  follow  him?" 

"I  think  I  ought  to." 

"By  what  route?" 

"  "Well,  we  ought  to  take  the  best  we  can  find." 

It  was  obvious  that  Jackson  would  not  communicate  his  inten- 
tions even  to  his  division  commanders.  They  complained  of  this 
more  than  once;  but  the  reader  will  remember  the  words  of  the 
General  heretofore  recorded :  "  If  my  own  coat  knew  what  I 
designed,  I  would  take  it  off  and  burn  it." 

On  the  next  day  all  was  ready  for  the  forward  movement,  now 
plainly  decided  upon.  Jackson  had  under  him  nearly  twenty 
thousand  excellent  troops,  including  some  additional  cavalry; 
and  the  reader  need  not  be  told  that  such  a  man,  with  such  a 
weapon  in  his  grasp,  was  not  apt  to  let  it  remain  idle.  Orders 
were  issued  that  every  species  of  baggage  should  be  left  behind, 
even  the  knapsacks — and  the  most  ignorant  man  in  the  forces 
then  knew  that  Jackson  was  "stripping  for  a  fight." 

At  daylight,  the  long  column  of  infantry  and  artillery  Avas  in 
motion — toward  the  "Newmarket  Gap,"  leading  into  the  Luray 
Valley. 

E well's  question,  so  skilfully  evaded,  was  thus  answered. 
Jackson  was  going  to  attack  his  adversary  in  flank  and  rear. 

Take  the  map  of  Virginia,  my  dear  reader,  and  you  will  un- 
derstand Jackson's  design  more  clearly,  at  a  single  glance,  than 
from  the  most  labored  explanation.  You  will  see  that  Strasburg, 
where  General  Banks  had  fortified,  is  eighteen  miles  south  of 
Winchester,  on  the  main  Valley  turnpike,  and  that  along  the  east 
side  of  this  turnpike  runs  the  Massinutton  Mountain.  On  the 
opposite  side  of  the  mountain — between  it  and  the  great  wave 
of  the  Blue  Eidge — is  the  "  Luray  Valley,"  leading  to  Front 
Royal,  directly  on  the  flank  of  Strasburg.  If  Jackson  could 
amuse  his  adversary  by  cavalry  demonstrations  on  the  main 
Valley  road,  while  he  rapidly  advanced  down  the  Luray  Valley 


186  SURRY    OP    EAGLE'S-NBST. 

and  gained  Front  Royal,  he  might  hope  to  pass  that  point — inter- 
pose himself  between  Strasburg  and  Winchester — and  force 
General  Banks  to  surrender,  or  fight  his  way  through  to  the 
Potomac. 

Jackson  was  now  swiftly  advancing  to  the  accomplishment  of 
this  bold  and  vigorous  conception.  The  troops  moved  rapidly 
across  the  Shenandoah,  and  through  Newmarket  Gap ;  pressed 
forward  down  the  Luray  Valley,  under  a  burning  May  sun ;  and 
at  nightfall  threw  themselves  upon  the  ground,  completely  ex- 
hausted, within  ten  miles  of  Front  Royal. 

Before  daylight,  Jackson  was  in  the  saddle,  and  his  advance 
force  hurried  forward  to  attack  the  Federal  garrison  in  the 
town. 

The  assault  was  sudden  and  decisive.  The  Federal  cavalry 
galloped  pell-mell  through  the  streets,  striking  fire  from  the 
pavement,  and  the  Confederates  rushed  in  with  cheers,  amid 
waving  handkerchiefs  and  tumultuous  outcries  of  rejoicing  from 
the  inhabitants.  The  Federal  forces  made  a  brief  stand  on  the 
elevated  ground  beyond,  and  endeavored  to  destroy  the  bridge 
over  the  Shenandoah.  J3ut  they  were  furiously  attacked  by 
the  advance  force  ;  the  bridge  was  saved  ;  and  the  army  rapidly 
crossed  the  river. 

Jackson  was  now  directly  on  his  adversary's  flank,  and  a  few 
hours  would  enable  him  to  reach  the  Federal  rear  and  cut  off 
their  retreat.  But  the  strength  of  the  human  machine  under 
this  great  engineer  began  to  fail — the  wheels  commenced  to 
creak.  The  immensely  hard  march  of  the  two  last  days,  under 
a  burning  sun,  had  filled  the  road  with  stragglers,  unable  to  keep 
up ;  and  those  who  remained  in  the  ranks  were  exhausted.  To 
concentrate  for  battle,  and  rest  his  entire  force,  Jackson  ordered 
a  halt ;  and  again,  at  nightfall,  the  troops  lay  down  in  the  roads 
and  fell  asleep,  clutching  their  muskets. 


A    NIGHT    ADVENTURE.  187 

LI  I. 

A    NIGHT    ADVENTURE. 

Stretching  myself  on  the  ground,  under  a  tree,  I  fell  soundly 
asleep,  like  the  rest ;  but  a  little  after  midnight  I  felt  a  hand  on 
my  shoulder,  and,  opening  my  eyes,  saw  General  Jackson. 

"  I  wish  you  to  ride  with  me,  Major." 

I  buckled  on  my  belt,  threw  my  cape  over  my  shoulders,  and 
mounted  my  horse,  which  stood  ready  saddled  near. 

"  I  can  get  no  intelligence  from  the  front,"  said  the  General, 
as  we  rode  on  through  the  darkness,  "  but  something  tells  me 
that  General  Banks  has  discovered  our  presence  here,  and  is 
retreating." 

"It  is  more  than  probable,  General." 

"I  am  going  to  see." 

And  pushing  on  rapidly  over  the  deserted  roads,  we  came  to 
Ashby's  cavalry  picket,  in  command  of  a  lieutenant. 

"Where  is  General  Ashby?" 

"To  the  left,  on  the  road  to  Strasburg,  General." 

''True.     Is  there  any  thing  in  front  of  you ?" 

"Nothing,  General — this  is  the  outside  picket." 

"Good." 

And  the  General  rode  by  the  vedette,  with  the  words : 

"Don't  fire  on  me  as  I  come  back." 

I  followed,  and  we  rode  on  some  distance  in  silence. 

"Ashby  is  obeying  his  orders  to  keep  a  good  lookout  on  the 
road  from  Strasburg  to  Front  Royal,  to  prevent  the  retreat  of 
the  enemy  in  that  direction,"  the  General  now  said,  half  to  him- 
self;  "  but  I  think  the  danger  is  here." 

We  rode  on  in  silence,  following  the  country  road,  now  passing 
through  wide  fields,  now  under  the  shade  of  forests. 

From  time  to  time  Jackson  checked  his  horse  and  listened. 
At  the  third  pause  of  this  description,  we  distinctly  heard  a 
distant  rumbling,  resembling  that  caused  by  artillery  or  wagona 
moving  over  the  hard  surface  of  a  turnpike. 


188  SURRY    OF    EAGLE'S-NEST. 

"I  knew  it!"  were  the  quick  words  of  the  General ;  "but  let 
us  he  certain." 

And,  galloping  rapidly  toward  the  sound,  we  reached  a  hill, 
separated  by  a  narrow  valley  from  the  elevated  ground  over 
which  ran  the  Valley  turnpike. 

The  sound  had  become  a  continuous  jarring  rumble  of  wheels, 
jingling  of  artillery  chains,  clash  of  hoofs,  and  that  low  shuffling 
sound  which  comes  from  large  bodies  of  infantry  in  motion, 
Against  the  sky,  beyond  the  hill,  we  clearly  made  out  the  long, 
dark  lines  of  infantry,  cavalry,  artillery,  and  wagons.  General 
Banks  was  retreating  upon  Winchester. 

Jackson  wheeled  his  horse,  and  dug  the  spur  into  his  side. 

"Come,  Major!"  he  exclaimed,  with  unwonted  excitement, 
"  no  time  is  to  be  lost !" 

As  he  spoke,  the  shrill  neigh  of  a  horse  was  heard  from  a  clump 
of  woods  on  the  left,  and  at  the  next  moment  a  scouting  party 
of  Federal  cavalry,  moving  on  the  flank  of  their  column,  appeared 
in  the  road. 

"Halt!"  was  the  quick  order  of  the  officer  at  their  head,  aa 
we  darted  off. 

A  sudden  volley  succeeded  ;  and  the  carbine  balls  whistled 
around. 

No  response  followed  the  order  to  halt — then  was  heard  the 
furious  clash  of  hoofs  behind  us.     The  cavalry  was  in  hot  pursuit. 

In  five  minutes  they  were  so  close  that  I  heard  the  heavy 
breathing  of  their  horses. 

"  Halt !  halt!"  came  again,  accompanied  by  a  volley  of  impre- 
cations from  the  officer  behind. 

I  replied  by  firing  at  him,  but  without  striking  him. 

It  was  now  obvious  that,  unless  we  left  the  road,  we  would 
inevitably  be  captured,  and  I  said  as  much  to  the  General. 

""Well,"  Avas  his  brief  response,  in  the  quick,  curt  tone  which 
characterized  him,  "  let  us  leave  it." 

"  Shall  we  try  that  stone  wall,  General  ?" 

"Yes." 

I  cleared  the  wall,  and  the  General  followed,  receiving  a  vol- 
ley as  he  rose  to  the  leap.     We  had  got  over,  and  were  in  a  field ; 


oo 
oo 


y 


o 

7.' 

W 
o 

<J 

y 
o 


A   NIGHT    ADVENTURE.  189 

but  the  wall  wa3  instantly  torn  down,  and  the  whole  detach- 
ment scrambled  over,  and  pressed  forward  as  hotly  as  before. 

All  at  once  a  by-road,  leading  into  the  woods,  appeared  in 
front,  and  we  struck  into  this  at  a  headlong  gallop. 

"Halt!  who  goes  there!"  suddenly  cried  a  voice  in  front, 
which  I  recognized  as  Ashby's. 

"Friends!" 

And,  reaching  his  side,  I  pointed  to  the  Federal  cavalry  about 
two  hundred  yards  behind. 

Ashby  recognized  the  General,  understood  all  at  a  glance,  and, 
by  a  movement  as  quick  as  thought,  drew  up  his  small  escort  on 
the  side  of  the  road,  beneath  the  shadow  of  the  trees. 

The  next  moment  the  Federal  cavalry  thundered  by,  and,  as 
their  rear  passed  him,  A.shby  gave  the  ringing  order  : 

"Charge!" 

A  volley  was  poured  into  the  Federal  detachment,  throwing 
them  into  the  wildest  disorder — Ashby  charged  them  sabre  in 
hand — and  in  three  minutes  the  whole  party  were  captured. 

Jackson  seemed  to  have  forgotten  the  whole  affair  in  a  moment 
after  the  cessation  of  the  firing. 

"General,"  he  said,  with  great  animation,  "the  enemy  are  re- 
treating rapidly  toward  Winchester.  Get  your  entire  command 
together,  and  move  toward  Middletown,  on  the  left  of  the  main 
body.     Major,  is  your  horse  fresh?" 

"Perfectly,  General." 

"  Go  back  and  tell  my  column  to  move  forward  at  once !  I 
wish  General  Ewell  to  advance  by  the  Newtown  road — the  rest 
by  the  way  we  came  to-night.  Lose  no  time !  General,  get 
your  cavalry  here  quickly  !" 

I  have  rarely  seen  Jackson  more  animated.  I  went  at  full 
speed  to  carry  the  order,  and,  at  the  same  moment,  Ashby's 
couriers  were  seen  scattering  in  every  direction  to  concentrate 
the  cavalry  at  the  point  ordered. 

The  General's  directions  were  promptly  sent  to  the  different 
commanders,  and  in  an  hour  the  whole  army  was  in  motion — 
one  column,  under  Ewell,  advancing  as  ordered,  by  the  road  to 
Newtown — the  other  directly  toward  Middletown. 


190  SUEEY    OF    EAGLE'S-NEST. 

Jackson  took  personal  command  of  the  latter,  and  at  daylight 
reached  the  hill  which  we  had  reconnoitred  from  during  the 
night.  The  road  in  front  was  black  with  General  Banks's  army 
in  full  retreat.     Jackson  had  struck  the  columns  in  transitu. 


LIII. 

JACKSON  RETURNING  TO  "HIS  PROPERTY." 

Autillery  was  immediately  hurried  forward,  and  a  furious 
fire  opened  on  the  column.  The  scene  which  followed  was 
striking.  At  one  moment  the  turnpike  was  black  with  the  long 
lines  of  Federal  cavalry  and  artillery  moving  rapidly  toward 
Winchester — and  then,  as  the  cannon  suddenly  opened  their  grim 
mouths,  and  the  shell  tore  through  the  Federal  column,  the 
cavalry  broke  in  a  panic,  scattered  in  every  direction,  and  the 
dark  figures  disappeared  like  flying  phantoms  in  the  wood9. 
Where  an  instant  before  had  been  seen  the  long  dense  column, 
you  could  now  discern  only  horses  writhing  in  the  agonies  of 
death,  and  the  forms  of  the  dead  and  dying. 

The  Federal  artillery  and  infantry,  which  brought  up  the  rear, 
was  cut  off,  and  made  vain  efforts  to  defend  itself.  The  guns 
took  position  and  opened  furiously,  but  Taylor's  infantry  charged 
them ;  they  were  hastily  limbered  up,  and  then  were  seen  thun- 
dering, at  full  gallop,  back  toward  Strasburg,  from  which  place 
they  escaped  with  the  infantry  to  the  western  mountains. 

Ashby  had  now  advanced  with  his  whole  cavalry,  and  was  in 
hot  pursuit  of  the  disordered  Federal  horse  and  the  wagon  train. 

The  scene  which  ensued  was  one  of  wild  disorder.  The  men 
stopped  to  ransack  the  heavily  laden  wagons  in  rear  ;  and  the 
consequence  was,  that  the  long  trains  in  front  were  enabled  to 
make  good  their  escape.  Worse  still,  this  delay  enabled  the 
Federal  commander  to  organize  a  rear-guard;  and,  when  Jack- 
son's infantry  pressed  on,  it  was  saluted  with  a  heavy  fire  of 
artillery. 


JACKSON'S    "PROPERTY."  191 

The  General  was  furious,  and  hot  words  passed  between  him 
and  Ashby — now  Brigadier-General,  and  responsible  for  the 
conduct  of  all  the  cavalry. 

"  But  for  this  shameful  conduct,"  exclaimed  Jackson,  "  General 
Banks  would  have  reached  Winchester  without  a  wagon  train, 
if  not  without  an  army."* 

Ashby  made  a  haughty  reply,  which  I  did  not  hear — and  for 
many  days  the  rupture  between  them  was  not  healed. 

Driving  before  him  the  Federal  rear-guard,  Jackson  now  con- 
tinued to  press  forward  with  his  infantry — the  column  moved  all 
night,  fighting  at  every  step — and  at  daylight  on  the  next  morn- 
ing the  roofs  of  Winchester  were  seen  shining  in  the  sunlight. 

General  Banks  occupied  the  town,  and,  finding  that  he  was 
determined  to  make  a  stand  on  the  high  ground  in  the  suburbs, 
Jackson  made  instant  dispositions  for  an  assault.  Ewell  was 
directed  to  attack  on  the  right,  from  the  Front  Royal  road,  and, 
taking  command  in  person  of  his  left  wing,  Jackson  threw  for- 
ward a  heavy  line,  supported  by  a  determined  fire  of  artillery, 
and  charged  the  Federal  forces  occupying  the  high  ground  west 
of  the  town. 

Nothing  stops  troops  who  believe  that  they  are  driving  before 
them  a  demoralized  enemy.  The  Federal  forces  made  a  resolute 
stand,  and  their  first  line,  behind  a  stone  wall,  bravely  held  that 
position,  although  the  stones  were  dashed  into  a  thousand  pieces 
by  round  shot.  But  the  Southern  line  carried  every  thing  before 
it.  It  swept  down  the  slope  in  front — advanced  at  a  double- 
quick  across  the  intervening  space,  under  a  furious  fire  from  the 
enemy's  artillery,  and,  mounting  the  opposing  slope,  charged 
the  Federal  line  with  the  bayonet. 

For  an  instant  I  could  make  out  nothing  through  the  smoke — . 
no  sound  was  heard  but  the  dull  roar  of  artillery,  and  tho  sharp 
rattle  of  musketry.  Then  a  loud  cheer  rose  from  the  hill,  and,  as 
the  smoke  drifted,  I  saw  the  Federal  forces  in  full  retreat,  pur- 
sued by  their  opponents. 

At  the  same  moment,  wild  shouts  arose  on  the  right,  where 

*  This  expression  was  afterward  useil  in  Jackson's  report. 


192  SUKR*     OF    EAGLE'S-NEST. 

Ewoll  had  been  thundering  with  his  artillery.  I  saw  his  line 
sweep  forward,  with  glittering  bayonets,  driving  the  Federal 
infantry  from  a  heavy  stone  wall  and  other  cover  ;  and,  galloping 
forward,  I  entered  the  town  just  as  the  two  columns  united,  and 
the  Federal  forces  scattered,  and  hastened  in  full  retreat  through 
the  streets. 

The  spectacle  was  exciting.  The  streets  were  full  of  men, 
women,  and  children,  who  seemed  wild  with  joy.  It  is  scarcely 
an  exaggeration  to  say  that  they  appeared  crazed  for  the  moment. 
They  ran  to  and  fro,  shouting,  cheering,  laughing — every  window 
waved  with  handkerchiefs,  fluttering  in  the  hands  of  ladies — and 
such  was  the  crowd  of  these  latter  in  the  streets  that  the  advance 
of  the  Southern  troops  was  actually  impeded  by  them.  They 
seemed  to  pay  not  the  least  attention  to  the  balls  whistling 
around  them  ;  and  many  persons  witnessed,  and  can  testify  to  the 
curious  fact,  that  a  detail  of  men  had  to  be  sent  in  advance,  to 
make  the  groups  of  girls  give  way,  in  order  that  the  platoons 
might  deliver  their  fire. 

Never  before  or  afterward  did  I  see  Jackson  so  much  carried 
away  as  upon  this  occasion.  As  men,  women,  and  children  flocked 
around  him,  grasping  his  hand,  touching  his  clothes,  and  saluting 
him  with  cheers  and  exclamations,  his  face  flushed,  his  eyes 
sparkled,  and,  waving  his  old  cap  in  the  air,  he  uttered  a  cheer — 
the  first  and  last  I  ever  heard  from  his  lips. 

Then  he  pushed  ahead  of  the  crowd ;  followed  at  full  gallop 
the  retreating  enemy ;  and  was  soon  so  close  that,  fearing  they 
would  turn  and  fire  on  him,  I  said : 

"  Don't  you  think  you  are  exposing  yourself  too  much,  Gen- 
eral?" 

"No,  Major!"  he  exclaimed,  "they  can't  hurt  me!  Go  back 
and  tell  the  army  to  press  right  on  to  the  Potomac!"* 

The  enemy  were  pursued  for  some  miles  beyond  Winchester 
by  the  infantry,  and  then  the  cavalry  continued  to  harass  them 
until  they  crossed  the  Potomac,  near  Martinsburg. 

General  Banks  was  thus  driven  completely  from  the  Valley,  and 

*  TTis  words. 


CAPTAIN   BOGY'S    LITTLE    IDEA.         193 

such  was  the  haste  of  his  departure  that  he  left  behind  him 
immense  stores,  which  fell  into  Jackson's  hands.  The  troops 
ransacked  the  sutlers'  stores,  which  their  owners  had  fled  and 
abandoned — and  the  citizens  of  Winchester  still  relate  with 
laughter  the  story  of  a  fat  old  Dutchman  who  lost  his  all.  He 
knew  that  Jackson  was  coming  back,  he  said ;  he  had  heard 
a  horn  blowing  beyond  Fort  Royal,  then  at  Middletown,  then 
near  Winchester ;  and  this  horn  said  plainly,  louder  and  louder 
as  it  came,  "Who's  been  here  since  I's  been  gone?"  That 
horn  was  Jackson's,  and  he  it  was  who  was  demanding  in  his 
terrible  voice  who  had  intruded  on  his  property.  So,  exit 
Mynheer  in  the  direction  of  Martinsburg — from  which  place  he 
returned  after  the  withdrawal  of  the  rebels,  to  find  only  empty 
boxes  in  his  store-rooms,  and  to  exclaim  in  despair,  with  hands 
uplifted,  "Who's  been  here  since  /'s  been  gone?" 

The  Federal  troops,  who  saw  all,  shared  this  feeling,  that  the 
region  around  Winchester  belonged  to  Jackson,  and  that  he  was 
coming  back  to  take  possession  of  "his  property."  More  than 
once  I  heard  that  groups  of  lounging  soldiers  had  suddenly 
started  and  risen  to  their  feet  when  some  practical -joke-loving 
individual  exclaimed,  "Jackson  is  coming!" — and  one  had  fallen 
backward  from  a  lofty  stool  at  this  announcement,  convinced 
that  the  fearful  clutch  of  the  blood-thirsty  Stonewall  was  on  \m 
shoulder. 

That  awful  cannibal  had  now  come  back,  made  a  meal  on 
General  Banks,  and  entered  into  possession  of  his  property. 
Unfortunately,  however,  his  tenure  of  it  was  to  be  very  brief. 


LIV. 

A  LITTLE  IDEA  OF  CAPTAIN  BOGY'S. 

Before  proceeding  with  the  rapid  narrative  of  the  great  cam- 
paign, of  which  I  have  given  only  the  main  historic  outlines,  I 
shall  invite  the  reader's  attention  to  one  of  those  comic  scenes 
which  so  often  appear  amid  the  carnage  of  war,  and  afford  him 
9 


194  SURRY    OF    EAGLE'S-NEST. 

a  glimpse  of  an  old  acquaintance,  wellnigh  forgotten,  I  fear,  In 
the  rush  of  events  and  the  crowd  of  personages  on  the  imposing 
theatre  of  the  war. 

I  had  been  sent  to  the  front  with  an  order  from  Jackson,  and 
was  returning  to  Winchester,  when,  just  as  I  debouched  into  the 
main  highway  between  that  place  and  Martinsburg,  I  descried  a 
singular  cortege. 

A  long  line  of  Federal  prisoners  were  marching  on  foot  over 
the  dusty  high  road  to  Winchester,  accompanied  by  a  guard  of 
cavalry;  and  each  one  of  the  blue-coats  carried  in  his  arms  a 
negro  child  !* 

They  toiled  along  through  the  hot  sunshine,  carrying  the 
squalling  young  Africans,  and,  as  I  approached,  imprecations 
greeted  my  ears,  mixed  with  laughter  from  the  guard,  who 
seemed  to  enjoy  intensely  the  disgust  of  their  late  adversaries  at 
this  compulsory  dry-nursism. 

I  was  about  to  ride  on,  when  all  at  once  I  recognized  in  the 
commander  of  the  cavalry  escort  my  old  acquaintance,  Captain 
Bogy,  with  whom  I  had  dined,  in  company  with  Johnston,  Jack- 
son, and  Stuart,  just  before  the  battle  of  Manassas.  I  knew  that 
the  jovial  Captain  had  joined  Jackson  with  his  company  when 
Ewell  re-enforced  us  just  before  McDowell,  but,  in  the  rush  of 
official  engagements,  had  not  been  able  to  visit  him. 

Bogy  was,  if  any  tiling,  fatter,  rounder,  and  more  jovial  than 
before.  His  sabre-belt  sunk  deeper  into  his  enormous  body; 
his  jackboots  were  heavier;  his  face  more  ruddy,  and  his  smile 
still  more  unctuous. 

He  recognized  me  at  once,  and  saluted  me  with  a  wheezy 
deep-seated,  contagious  laugh. 

"You  see  I  am  going  back,  Major,"  he  said,  "with  a  few  of 
the  spoils  of  victory !" 

"  In  the  shape  of  prisoners  and  contrabands!" 
"Yes,  that  is  a  little  device  of  mine,  and  I  don't  mind  saying 
I'm  rather  proud  of  it.     Rather  a  neat  idea,  eh,  Major?" 
"Making  the  prisoners  carry  the  darkey?" 


*  Historical — but  this  device  was  invented  by  the  gallant  Captain  A ,  not  by 

Captain  Bogy. 


CAPTAIN    BOGY'S    LITTLE    IDEA.       195 

"  Why  not  ?  They  enticed  them  away,  and  were  carrying  off 
in  their  wagons  whole  families  of  these  monkey-beings.  They 
are  savage  on  their  General  Banks,  and  swear  that  it  was  all  his 
doing.  They  charge  him  with  leaving  behind  his  own  wounded 
to  make  room  in  his  wagon  for  the  ebo-shins."* 

"  It  is  not  possible!" 

"  Don't  know  ;  but  I  know  they  were  carried  off  in  shoals  to 
Muriinsburg,  and,  as  I  captured  'em,  I  thought  they  ought  to  be 
brought  back  by  the  same  people  who  took  them  there.  It  must 
be  a  pleasing  occupation  to  tote  'em — they  love  'em  so!" 

And,  turning  to  a  sullen-looking  fellow  among  the  Federal 
prisoners,  who  carried  in  his  arms  an  uncommonly  dirty,  chubby, 
and  squalling  negro  baby,  Captain  Bogy  asked,  with  an  air  of 
great  interest,  whether  he  was  not  "  glad  to  have  that  close  to 
his  bosom  one  of  the  poor  down-trodden  Africans?" 

The  reply  of  the  Federal  prisoner  was  brief  but  expressive : 

"D the  down-trodden  African!"  he  growled.     "I  wish 

the  whole  concern  of  'em  was  in !" 

And  he  mentioned  a  place  unnamable  to  ears  polite. 

Bogy  burst  into  laughter,  and  the  baby  set  up  a  squalL 

"Hug  him !  hug  the  little  darling  to  your  bosom,  my  friend !" 
said  the  Captain.  "  I  don't  myself  admire  the  peculiar  odor  of 
the  African,  but  there's  no  accounting  for  difference  of  taste!" 

And,  amid  the  muttered  curses  of  the  burly  nurse,  who  looked 
as  if  be  would  very  much  like  to  strangle  his  burden,  Bogy  rode 
on  laughing. 

"  General  order  number  one!"  he  called  out  as  we  passed  on; 
"if  any  prisoner  drops  his  baby,  give  him  two!" 

And,  shaking  all  over,  Bogy  turned  to  me  and  said : 

"A  glorious  campaign,  Major!  a  perfect  stifler  on  Commis- 
sary-General Banks!" 

"  Coynmissary-GeneralV 

"  That's  the  nickname  given  him  by  the  men.  They  say  that 
he  is  Old  Jack's  commissary  and  quartermaster  too.  "Wagons, 
rations,  sutlers'  stores — he  has  provided  every  thing." 

*  Such  was  the  charge  brought  by  the  Federal  troops  against  General  Banks  at 
the  time. 


196  SURRY    OF   EAGLE'S-NEST. 

"  Very  true,  lny  dear  Captain,  and  I'm  much  mistaken  if  to 
old  a,  soldier  as  yourself  has  not  looked  out  for  his  mess." 

"  Mel"  exclaimed  the  Captain.  "Oh,  I  never  think  of  good 
eating,  Major!" 

And  the  Captain  chuckled. 

"  Remember  that  day  I  dined  with  you." 

"  Was  the  hill  of  fare  good?     Delighted  to  hear  it." 

"  It  was  miraculous  ;  and  I'll  bet  you  will  dine  as  well  to-day." 

"No,  no,  I  fear  not." 

And  Bogy  sighed. 

"  Come,  confess,  my  dear  Captain,  didn't  you  secure  some 
small,  unpretending  wagon,  which  no  one  else  would  notice,  and 
yet  whose  contents  were  a  real  Arabian  Night's  Entertainment?" 

Bogy  looked  modest,  and  was  silent. 

"Come!  you  look  guilty!     Confess,  confess!" 

Captain  Bogy  inserted  one  finger  beneath  his  hat,  scratched 
his  head,  and  replied,  in  an  innocent  voice : 

"  Well,  I  did  get  a  small,  a  very  small  wagon,  Major." 

"I  could  have  sworn  it!  And  now  confess  again!  It  was  a 
'head-quarters  wagon.'" 

"  Well  I  believe  it  was." 

"  Whose,  my  dear  Captain?" 

The  Captain  looked  still  more  innocent. 

"  I  think  it  was  General  Banks's,"  he  replied,  with  lamb-like 
simplicity. 

I  began  to  laugh,  and  asked  if  its  contents  were  satisfactory. 

"  Eminently  so,  my  dear  Major,  as  you  will  have  an  oppor- 
tunity of  seeing,  if  you  will  come  and  dine  with  me  to-morrow. 
To-day  is  lost;  I  have  dined  on  a  cracker,"  and  Bogy  sighed; 
"but  to-morrow!  Ah!  that's  different!  To-morrow  I  shall 
really  dine !  Come  and  let  us  reconnoitre  the  wagon  together. 
I  have  already  tried  the  brandy ;  it  is  genuine  Otard :  the  wine  is 
not  so  good,  and  I  wish  these  Yankee  generals  would  cultivate  a 
purer  taste.  They  rarely  have  what  suits  my  palate.  But  the 
sauces  are  excellent ;  I  have  tried  them :  and  the  cheese  very 
passable.  Come,  Major!  come!  Lucullus  dines  with  Lucullui 
to-morrow;  drop  in !  I  will  send  you  word  where  to  find  me!'; 


THE    TRAP.  197 

Such  was  the  hospitable  invitation  of  Captain  Bogy,  and  I 
accepted  it  provisionally — if  I  could  come.  Unfortunately,  to 
anticipate,  I  was  unable  to  be  with  the  gallant  Captain. 

I  left  him  riding  gravely  in  front  of  his  cortege,  occasionally 
issuing  a  stentorian  order  when  the  nurses  flagged  in  their  march, 
or  exhibited  symptoms  of  rebellion  at  their  burden. 

That  spectacle  kept  me  laughing  for  many  miles. 


LV. 

THE    TRAP 

"  Tell  the  army  to  press  right  on  to  the  Potomac!"  had  indi- 
cated Jackson's  entire  programme.  lie  was  always  in  favor  of 
following  up  his  successes,  and  pressing  a  defeated  enemy  re- 
morselessly: his  object  now  was  to  paralyze,  if  possible,  the 
entire  Federal  force  in  the  region.  General  Banks's  column  was 
driven  beyond  the  Potomac,  but  a  force  was  at  Charlestown,  and 
at  Harper's  Ferry  a  very  considerable  garrison.  Jackson's  col- 
umn was  immediately  pushed  forward  in  that  direction  to  finish 
the  work. 

We  afterward  heard  that  his  approach  was  telegraphed  to 
Washington,  and  caused  such  apprehensions  there  that  the  Gov- 
ernors of  the  Northern  States  were  called  upon  for  troops  to 
defend  the  Capital.  It  will  soon  be  seen  that  formidable  efforts 
were  meanwhile  being  made  to  cut  off  and  destroy  this  great, 
gladiator,  whose  movements  were  so  sudden,  rapid,  and  threaten- 
ing. 

To  return  to  my  rapid  outline  of  events.  General  Charles 
Winder  pressed  on  toward  Charlestown  with  the  Stonewall 
Brigade,  opened  upon  the  forces  Avith  his  cavalry  before  they 
suspected  his  presence,  and,  driving  them  before  him,  reached  the 
vicinity  of  Harper's  Ferry,  where,  on  the  next  day,  Jackson 
joined  him  with  the  main  body. 

An  attack  was  instantly  determined  upon,  and  a  regiment  was 
sent  to  occupy  Loudoun  Heights  east  of  the  place;  fire  had  just 


198  SURRY    OF   EAGLE'S-NEST. 

been  opened ;  all  was  ready  for  the  attack,  when  news  came 
which  put  an  end  to  further  proceedings. 

A  rumor  seemed  to  come,  blown  on  the  wind,  that  a  storm 
was  brewing  in  the  rear,  and  Jackson  entered  the  cars  at 
Charlestown  to  return  to  Winchester. 

He  had  scarcely  done  so,  when  a  courier  rode  up  at  full  speed. 

"What  news?"  said  Jackson,  curtly. 

The  courier  fumbled  for  his  dispatch. 

"The  enemy  are  at  Front  Royal." 

"  Good !"  said  Jackson. 

"  Colonel  Conuor  is  cut  off  and  captured," 

"  Very  good."* 

"  Fremont  is  at  "Wardensville.     Here  is  the  dispatch,  General." 

Jackson  read  it  with  perfect  calmness,  crumpled  up  and 
dropped  it,  and  then  rapidly  wrote  an  order  directing  his  entire 
command  to  return  from  Harper's  Ferry  to  "Winchester. 

Having  done  so,  he  bent  forward,  leaned  his  head  upon  the 
back  of  the  seat  in  front  of  him,  and  fell  asleep.t 

The  cars  moved  on,  and  in  half  an  hour  he  awoke. 

"Are  we  near  Winchester,  Major?" 

"  Yes,  General." 

"I  can  get  there  first — I  mean  to  Strasburg." 

"The  march  will  be  hard." 

"  Yes,  if  Fremont  is  at  Wardensville  and  McDowell  at  Front 
Royal,  as  that  dispatch  announced." 

"I  don't  like  to  croak,  General,"  I  said,  "but  it  appears  to 
me  that  if  any  time  is  lost  we  are  cut  off." 

"  You  are  right :  that  would  be  unfortunate  after  capturing 
such  valuable  stores.     Only  one  course  would  remain  for  me." 

"What  is  that,  General?" 

"  To  fall  back  upon  Maryland  for  re-enforcements. "J 

We  reached  Winchester,  and  the  captured  stores  were  hastily 
loaded  upon  the  wagons.  The  enormous  trains  were  then  sent 
forward  with  the  long  column  of  Federal  prisoners,  twenty- 
three  hundred  in  number,  toward  Strasburg,  escorted  by  a  regi- 

*  His  word*.  +  Historical.  $  His  words. 


THE    TRAP.  199 

ment  of  infantry,  under  the  brave  Colonel  Cunningham,  after- 
ward killed  at  Cedar  Mountain. 

The  army  was  then  rapidly  concentrated  at  Winchester;  and 
without  losing  a  moment,  or  waiting  for  the  Stonewall  Brigade, 
which  had  held  the  front  at  Harper's  Ferry,  the  column  hastened 
toward  Strasburg. 

There  was  something  both  gallant  and  grotesque  in  the  spec- 
tacle of  the  men  limping  along  over  the  hard  stones  of  the  turn 
pike,  laughing  and  jesting  as  they  did  so.  The  oddest  remarks 
came  to  my  ears  as  I  rode  along  the  column,  glittering,  with  its 
burnished  bayonets,  like  some  huge  serpent  with  silver  scales, 
as  it  undulated  in  the  sunshine.  "Old  Jack  ain't  cut  off  yet," 
seemed  the  most  popular  view  of-  the  situation ;  and  the  critical 
condition  of  affairs  seemed  to  be  regarded  as  a  good  joke.  Sol- 
diers are  like  children,  reader — but  for  that  matter,  what  men 
are  not?  Your  emperors,  kings,  presidents,  and  statesmen — 
they  are  all  overgrown  children. 

Jackson's  situation  was  one  of  very  extreme  peril.  Two 
heavy  Federal  columns  were  closing  in  upon  his  rear,  toward 
Strasburg — that  under  General  Shields  from  the  east,  and  that 
under  General  Fremont  from  the  west.  The  former  is  known 
to  have  amounted  to  twenty  thousand  men,  from  President  Lin- 
coln's order  to  General  McDowell  to  "move  twenty  thousand 
men  "  on  the  line  of  the  Manassas  Gap  Railroad,  "to  capture  or 
destroy  Jackson."  General  Fremont's  force  was  probably  about 
as  numerous. 

Thus,  without  counting  the  forces  at  Harper's  Ferry,  Williams- 
port,  and  elsewhere  on  the  Potomac,  which  would  immediately 
follow  upon  his  rear,  Jackson  had  in  his  front  about  forty 
thousand  troops,  through  which  it  appeared  he  would  certainly 
be  compelled  to  cut  his  way. 

His  own  force  was  fifteen  thousand  effective  men.* 

If  he  was  cut  off  at  Strasburg,  this  force  would  speedily  bo  en- 
closed by  a  cordon  of  three  armies,  under  Fremont,  Shields,  and 
Banks,  amounting  to  about  seventy  thousand  men. 

*  Jackson's  statement  at  the  time. 


200  SURRY    OF   EAGLE'S-NEST. 

Jackson  rode  at  the  head  of  his  column,  and  I  could  not  dis- 
cern any  unusual  emotion  in  his  countenance.  His  astonishing 
nerve  enabled  him  to  look  calmly  in  the  face  of  peril  which 
would  certainly  have  excited  most  generals,  however  courage- 
ous. 

"Move  on  with  the  column,"  came  from  the  calm  lips  from 
time  to  time,  and  soon  the  towering  wave  of  the  Massi- 
nutton  Mountain  rose  before  us.  Suddenly  firing  was  heard  in 
front. 

Jackson  pushed  on  and  entered  Strasburg,  when  a  staff-oflioer 
from  Ashby  galloped  up. 

"  What  news  ?" 

"  The  enemy  are  advancing,  General." 

"Fremont's  column?" 

"  Yes,  sir.     They  are  in  sight.1 

"  Tell  General  Ashby  to  hold  them  in  check  as  long  as  possi- 
ble." 

The  officer  saluted  and  darted  off.  At  the  same  moment  a 
courier  appeared  coming  from  the  direction  of  Front  Royal. 

"Well?"  said  Jackson  curtly. 

"  The  enemy  are  within  three  miles,  General." 

"  Infantry  or  cavalry  ?" 

"  Cavalry." 

"  Good."  And  turning  to  me,  the  General,  said :  "  Present  my 
compliments  to  General  Ewell,  and  tell  him  to  attack  Fremont's 
column,  at  once." 

I  was  riding  off. 

"  Wait  a  moment." 

I  turned  my  horse's  head. 

"  Tell  him  to  hold  his  ground  until  he  is  cut  to  pieces." 

This  cheering  order  I  speedily  delivered  to  General  Ewell, 
who  laughed  grimly  as  he  threw  his  division  into  line  of  battle. 

I  returned  to  Jackson,  who  was  trying  to  eat  a  cracker  as  hard 
as  iron,  as  he  sat  his  horse. 

"  Major,  ride  up  to  the  top  of  the  hill,  and  see  if  you  can  see 
or  hear  any  thing  of  the  Stonewall  Brigade.  I  intend  to  stay 
here  until  it  arrives." 


THE    TRAP.  201 

I  rode  up  and  reconnoitred,  reaching  the  hill-top  just  as  the 
long  roll  of  musketry  west  of  Strasburg  indicated  that  Ewell 
had  engaged  Fremont. 

As  far  as  the  eye  could  see,  the  turnpike  was  deserted.  No 
signs  of  the  missing  brigade  were  seen,  and  I  reported  the  fact 
to  Jackson. 

"Very  good." 

And  he  rode  forward  to  where  Ewell  was  fighting.  He  was 
heavily  engaged  with  General  Fremont's  advance  force,  which 
had  passed  ahead  of  the  main  body. 

At  sight  of  Jackson,  a  loud  cheer  rose  from  the  men,  and  the 
line,  instead  of  merely  standing  and  receiving  the  enemy's  attack, 
rushed  forward. 

Forgetting  every  thing  else,  Jackson  galloped  on  with  the  line, 
encouraging  the  men,  and,  before  the  impetuous  rush  of  the 
Southerners,  General  Fremont's  line  fell  back. 

Jackson  halted,  and  wiped  his  forehead.  As  he  did  so,  a  cou- 
rier hastened  up  with  a  dispatcli  from  General  Winder.  The 
Stonewall  Brigade  would  arrive  in  half  an  hour. 

"  Tell  the  General  to  lose  no  time.     I  am  waiting  for  him." 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  Well,  General,"  he  said  to  Ewell,  "we  will  soon  move  now. 
Keep  your  command  well  together ;  I  will  withdraw  in  an  hour." 

In  twenty  minutes  the  flag  of  the  Stonewall  Brigade  appeared 
upon  the  hill  above  Strasburg,  and  the  line  of  glittering  bayonets 
wound  down  the  declivity.  They  had  made  an  enormous  march, 
but  were  at  last  up ;  and  in  an  hour,  as  he  had  notified  Ewell, 
Jackson  put  his  entire  column  in  motion,  just  as  dispatches  from 
the  right  and  the  left  announced  that  the  forces  under  Shields 
and  Fremont  were  pouring  forward,  and  would  soon  be  upon 
him. 

The  wagon  train  and  the  prisoners  had  gone  ahead,  and  the 
long  column  of  infantry  now  followed. 

Last  came  Ashby's  column  of  cavalry.  As  the  rear  of  the  column 
reached  the  high  ground  beyond  the  town,  the  enemy  rushed 
into  Strasburg. 

Jackson  had  extricated  himself  from  the  trap. 
9* 


202  SURRY    OF   E  AGLE'S-NEST. 

LVI. 

FALLING   BACK. 

The  retreat  which  followed  was  one  long  battle. 

General  Fremont  was  pressing  Jackson's  rear  on  the  main 
Valley  road ;  General  Shields  was  hurrying  by  a  parallel  route 
up  the  Luray  Valley,  to  cut  him  off  at  Newmarket. 

Jackson  had  taught  his  adversaries  topography.  They  were 
playing  against  him  the  same  game  which  had  been  so  fatal  to 
General  Banks.  That  commander's  woes  had  all  originated  from 
the  unfortunate  existence  of  the  Luray  Valley.  Might  not  Jack- 
son become  the  victim  of  a  flank  movement  by  that  route,  in  his 
turn? 

So  General  Shields  hurried  by  Luray  toward  Newmarket,  and 
General  Fremont  followed  in  his  adversary's  rear. 

Desperate  attempts  were  made  to  break  through  Ashby's  rear- 
guard of  cavalry,  infantry,  and  artillery ;  and  the  Federal  cavalry 
charged  with  very  great  gallantry. 

They  were  repulsed  by  the  free  use  of  canister,  and  by  the  en- 
ergy of  Ashby,  who  seemed  to  delight  in  the  performance  of  the 
duty  assigned  to  him. 

It  was  Ashby  who  fought  that  long  battle  I  have  mentioned, 
from  Strasburg  up  the  Valley.  At  Woodstock,  Edinburg,  Mount 
Jackson — on  every  hill  and  in  every  valley  of  this  beautiful  re- 
gion— he  fought,  with  shell,  canister,  the  carbine,  and  the  sabre. 

A  certain  amount  of  fighting  every  day  seemed  now  to  have 
become  necessary  to  the  man;  and  such  untiring  energy  and  ac- 
tivity 3iad  he  displayed,  that  Jackson,  who  had  long  since  become 
as  warmly  attached  to  him  as  ever,  placed  the  whole  rear  of  the 
army  under  him. 

It  was  thenceforth  in  Ashby's  power  to  order  into  action  as 
much  infantry  as  he  wished ;  but  his  cavalry  and  horse  artillery 
continued  to  be  sufficient 

I  was  with  him  nearly  all  the  time  during  this  famous  retr eat— ■ 
can  never  think  of  it  without  seeing  Ashby  on  his  milk-white 


ASHBY'S    WHITE    HORSE.  203 

horse  again — and  always  his  noble  form  and  face  rise  up  and 
illustrate  the  page  which  speaks  of  those  events.  I  see  him  as  he 
passed  before  me  tben,  and  shall  ever  see  him. 

I  loved  and  admired  him  as  the  pearl  of  honor,  the  flower  of 
chivalry.  But  bow  I  should  have  treasured  up  every  word,  and 
been  beside  him  always,  had  I  known  his  days  were  numbered—- 
that  even  then  his  last  sands  of  life  were  running  through  the 
glass ! 

LVII. 

ASHBY'S  WHITE   HORSE. 

Tns  army  reached  and  crossed  the  Shenandoah  near  New- 
market :  it  was  Ashby's  duty  now,  when  his  cavalry  had  passed, 
to  destroy  the  bridge  behind  him. 

Having  carried  him  the  message  conveying  Jackson's  wishes  as 
to  the  time  and  manner  of  destroying  it,  I  was  a  witness  of  the 
scene  which  followed. 

The  wagons,  prisoners,  and  infantry  had  all  defiled  over  the 
bridge,  the  enemy  following  closely  on  their  rear,  and  it  required 
Ashby's  most  vigorous  efforts  and  utmost  skill  in  disposing  his 
cavalry,  with  the  fire  of  the  artillery  from  the  hill  south  of  the 
river,  to  keep  back  the  pursuing  force  long  enough  to  enable 
every  thing  to  get  over.  At  last,  however,  this  important  object 
was  achieved ;  notice  was  given  that  the  last  brigade  was  over, 
and  Ashby  began  to  cross  with  his  cavalry  and  artillery. 

A  strong  rear-guard  still  faced  the  on-pressing  enemy,  skir- 
mishing hotly  as  they  slowly  fell  back ;  and  under  cover  of  this 
force,  commanded  by  Ashby  in  person,  the  cavalry  column  and 
guns  clattered  over  the  bridge. 

Ashby  now  fell  slowly  back  with  the  rear-guard,  obstinately 
contesting  every  step;  and  never  shall  I  forget  the  chivalric 
spectacle  which  he  presented,  mounted  on  his  superb  white 
horse,  as  fearless  and  defiant  as  himself.  The  swarthy  face,  with 
its  heavy  black  beard,  glowed  with  martial  ardor ;  in  the  flash- 
ing eyes  might  be  read  the  joy  of  conflict ;  and,  with  drawn 


204  SURRY    OF    BAGLE'S-NEST. 

sabre,  on  his  spirited  animal,  he  resembled  some  knight  of  the 
Middle  Ages,  asking  nothing  better  than  an  opportunity  to  meet 
all  comers. 

The  rear-guard  was  finally  across,  and,  ordering  the  column  to 
move  rapidly  on  and  join  the  main  body,  Ashby  selected  eight 
men,  and  proceeded  rapidly  to  set  fire  to  the  wood-work  of  the 
bridge. 

In  this,  however,  he  was  suddenly  met  by  a  serious  obstacle. 
The  timbers  were  saturated  by  the  recent  rains,  and  it  was  found 
impossible  to  kindle  the  combustibles  which  had  been  collected. 

To  his  inexpressible  chagrin,  Ashby  saw  the  Federal  cavalry 
coming  at  headlong  speed  down  the  turnpike  on  the  opposite 
side  of  the  bridge ;  and  in  an  instant  a  storm  of  bullets  whistled 
round  the  heads  of  the  working  party,  who  exhibited  unmistaka- 
ble signs  of  "  demoralization." 

Ashby  ordered  them,  hotly,  to  attend  to  the  work  before 
them ;  but  the  Federal  cavalry  had  now  dashed  on,  and  were 
thundering  over  the  bridge,  which  had  just  kindled. 

In  spite  of  Ashby's  stern  and  passionate  orders,  the  men  ran 
to  their  horses,  and  another  volley  whistled  among  them,  com- 
pleting their  panic. 

In  an  instant  they  were  in  the  saddle,  and  disgracefully  fled, 
without  thinking  of  their  commander.  I  found  myself  alone 
beside  General  Ashby,  who  sat  his  white  horse  with  wrathful 
countenance — half  resolved,  it  seemed,  to  charge  the  whole 
Federal  column,  and  die  sword  in  hand  rather  than  fly. 

A  single  moment  only  was  now  left  in  which  to  decide  upon 
our  course.  The  enemy  were  nearly  across  the  bridge,  charging 
with  loud  cheers,  and  firing  as  they  came. 

"Let  us  give  them  a  shot  at  least,  Surry,"  he  said. 

And  levelling  his  revolver,  he  emptied,  in  succession,  every 
barrel,  and  I  imitated  him. 

Then  nothing  was  left  but  flight  or  capture  ;  and  an  exciting 
race  commenced. 

We  were  pursued  by  a  whole  detachment,  who  followed  us 
with  loud  orders  to  halt. 

"  I  am  sorry  my  pistol  is  emptied,"  said  Ashby,  looking  grimly 


ASHBY'S    WHITE    HORSE.  205 

over  his  shoulder ;  "  but  if  it  comes  to  the  sabre,  I'll  try  to  give  a 
good  account  of  some  of  them." 

"We  galloped  on  at  full  speed,  followed  closely  by  our  pursuers, 
who  were  excellently  mounted. 

"  Those  must  be  stolen  horses,"  said  my  companion  coolly. 
"  See  that  tall  fellow  on  the  black — it  is  a  superb  animal." 

"  Which  ?"  I  said,  laughing,  "  the  man  or  the  horse?" 

As  I  spoke,  a  bullet  grazed  my  neck,  bringing  the  blood. 

"  Pay  for  your  jest,"  was  Ashby's  reply.  "  Look  out,  the  whole 
party  are  going  to  fire !" 

A  volley  followed,  and  the  next  moment  I  heard  Ashby  utter 
something  like  a  growl. 

"Look!"  he  said,  pointing  to  his  horse's  side. 

I  saw  that  a  bullet  had  inflicted  a  deep  wound,  from  which  the 
blood  was  streaming. 

"  Some  one  shall  suffer  for  that!" 

And  the  moment  for  carrying  out  the  threat  speedily  came. 

"Weary  of  the  ineffectual  chase,  the  cavalry  all  stopped  with 
the  exception  of  two,  who  continued  the  pursuit,  apparently  from 
mere  bravado.     The  time  had  arrived  for  Ashby's  revenge. 

Wheeling  suddenly  round,  his  sabre  flashing  at  the  same  in- 
stant from  his  scabbard,  he  charged  straight  upon  the  two  cavalry- 
men, and  witli  one  whirl  of  his  weapon  nearly  severed  the  head 
of  one  of  them  from  the  body.  Cut  completely  out  of  the  saddle, 
the  man  fell,  inert  as  a  corpse,  in  the  road — and  at  the  same 
moment  a  ball  from  the  rear-guard  of  cavalry,  which  we  had 
nearly  reached,  penetrated  the  breast  of  the  second,  who  also 
fell  from  his  seat.* 

Ashby  then  returned  his  sabre  to  the  scabbard,  and  coolly  rode 
on  to  the  head  of  his  column. 

The  infantry  had  halted,  and,  on  reaching  the  point  where  they 
were  drawn  up,  my  companion  found  that  his  white  horse  could 
go  no  further.  He  dismounted,  and,  gazing  in  silence  upon  the 
noble  animal  which  had  borne  him  safely  through  so  many 
bloody  encounters,  seemed  as  much  grieved  as  if  he  were  about 
to  part  with  some  valued  friend. 

*  Historical. 


206  SURRY    OF   EAGLE'S-NEST. 

The  wound  was  mortal,  and  caressing  gently,  for  a  few  mo- 
ments, the  arched  neck  of  his  favorite,  Ash  by  turned  away  in 
silence.  The  horse  was  led  off  by  one  of  the  men ;  and  never 
shall  I  forget  the  superb  appearance  of  the  wounded  charger  as 
he  passed  along  the  line  of  infantry.  Panting  with  his  hard  run, 
foaming  at  the  mouth,  and  covered  with  sweat — his  splendid 
head  carried  proudly  erect — his  eyes  full  of  fire — he  seemed  in- 
spired with  human  hatred  for  the  enemy,  and  to  defy  them  to 
the  last. 

I  could  see  in  the  eyes  of  the  men,  as  he  paced  before  them 
with  the  bleeding  wound  in  his  side,  how  much  they  pitied  and 
admired  him.* 


LYIII 

I    AM     CAPTURED. 

The  river  was  passed,  Newmarket  reached,  and  Jackson's 
column  swept  on  to  Harrisonburg.  His  cavalry  had  destroyed 
the  bridge  over  the  South  Fork  of  the  Shenandoah,  leading  into 
the  Luray  Valley;  his  flank  was  thus  safe  still — and  soon  Harri- 
sonburg was  reached. 

Thence,  without  pausing,  he  pushed  on  toward  Port  Republic, 
where,  with  his  back  to  Brown's  Gap,  he  could  stand  at  bay,  and 
bid  defiance  both  to  Fremont  and  to  Shields.  But  could  he  reach 
that  point?  On  the  summit  of  the  southern  shoulder  of  the 
Massinutton,  which  here  subsides  into  the  Valley,  could  be  seen 
the  fluttering  of  our  signal  flags ;  and  these  said,  "  Shields  is  in 
sight,  and  rapidly  advancing  toward  Port  Republic." 

All  now  depended  upon  the  rapidity  of  Jackson's  movements 
and  the  resources  of  his  strategy.  Pressed  in  rear  by  the  heavy 
column  under  General  Fremont,  and  with  that  under  General 
Shields  rapidly  advancing  to  intercept  him,  he  was  in  a  position 
of  very  great  peril ;  and  I  followed,  with  absorbing  interest,  the 

*  See  accounts  of  this  scene  in  newspapers  of  the  time. 


I    AM    CAPTURED.  207 

movements  of  the  great  gladiator  thus  encircled  by  his  dangerous 
foes. 

An  untoward  incident  now  occurred,  however,  which  threat- 
ened to  prevent  me  from  taking  part  in  the  coming  struggle. 

We  were  steadily  falling  back  from  Harrisonburg  on  Port  Re- 
public, when  the  incident  I  refer  to  took  place.  General  Fremont 
was  pressing  closely  on  the  rear-guard  under  Ashby,  which  was 
incessantly  engaged,  and  having  by  this  time  formed  a  strong 
personal  affection  for  the  great  cavalry  commander,  I  was  with 
him  whenever  I  could  spare  the  time  from  my  duties. 

I  often  look  back  now  to  those  days  with  a  longing  desire  to 
live  them  over  again,  and  hear  the  friendly  voice  of  the  great 
spirit  which  has  passed  away.  It  was  a  life  all  excitement  and 
romance  which  we  lived  at  that  epoch — days  of  fighting,  of  in- 
cident, of  adventure;  nights  of  hasty  slumber,  in  rude  bivouac 
under  the  forest  trees,  or  of  long,  confidential  talks  by  the 
smouldering  camp-fire ;  all  day  long  the  crack  of  carbines,  and 
the  roar  of  artillery  keeping  back  the  enemy;  and  then,  with  the 
great  soldier  who  had  moved  in  front  of  his  cavalry,  ever  ready 
to  come  to  the  sabre,  those  sad,  memorial  recollections  which  are 
the  luxury  of  friends,  who  exchange  their  memories  as  they  fall 
asleep  after  or  on  the  eve  of  battle.  Often  now  those  days  come 
back  to  me — I  seem  to  see  his  face  and  hear  his  voice — and  peace, 
amid  friends  and  in  the  good  old  home,  seems  not  so  wholly 
charming  as  I  thought  it  would  be,  then.  Peace  hath  her  vic- 
tories and  her  laurels ;  but  the  ilowers  are  not  so  fresh,  nor  tipped 
with  such  fiery  dew,  as  when  they  bloom  amid  the  hot  atmos- 
phere of  war. 

I  wander  from  my  theme — but  those  old  times  beguile  me. 
Again  the  winds  of  other  days  blow  on  my  forehead,  and  I  live 
in  the  hours  that  are  dead. 

To  come  to  the  actual  occurrences  of  that  time — I  was  with 
the  cavalry  rear-guard  between  Harrisonburg  and  Cross  Keys, 
some  miles  from  Port  Republic,  at  which  point  the  infantry  was 
concentrating,  when  a  dust,  rising  upon  the  flank,  attracted  my 
attention,  and  I  told  Ashby  that  I  would  go  and  ascertain  what 
it  meant. 


208  SURRY    OF   EAGLE'S-NEST. 

"Take  care,  Surry,"  was  his  reply;  "the  eneiny  are  closa 
behind  us,  and  you  will  be  captured." 

"  I  reckon  not." 

"  Well,  keep  a  good  look-out.  The  Federal  advance-guard  is 
commanded  by  Sir  Percy  Wyndham,  an  English  officer,  who  has 
sworn,  I  am  informed,  that  he  will  'bag'  me.  I  should  be  soxry 
to  have  him  catch  one  of  my  friends." 

"I  defy  him!" 

And,  with  that  spirit  of  pride  which  so  often  precedes  a  fall,  I 
put  spur  to  my  horse,  and  went  at  full  speed  in  the  direction  of 
the  dust,  following  a  narrow  forest-road. 

Unfortunately,  Ashby's  fears  were  speedily  realized.  I  had 
not  gone  a  quarter  of  a  mile,  when  a  detachment  of  cavalry 
flankers  debouched  quietly  into  the  road  behind  me,  and,  levelling 
their  carbines,  ordered  me  to  surrender. 

It  was  the  coolest  and  most  businessdike  affair  I  had  ever 
witnessed,  reader.  No  ill-bred  hurry — no  excitement — no  "vio- 
lent language,"  or  unpleasant  collision.  Within  twenty  steps  of 
me  were  twenty  carbines,  cocked  and  aimed  at  my  breast — the 
officer  at  the  head  of  the  men  commanded,  "  Surrender,  or  you 
are  dead  " — and,  with  bitterness  in  my  heart,  I  surrendered. 

"You  are  an  officer,  sir?"  he  said,  riding  up. 

"I  am." 

"What  command?" 

"  The  Confederate  States  Army." 

"Rather  a  considerable  force  in  our  front,  Lieutenant,"  said 
the  officer,  who  seemed  to  be  something  of  a  humorist ;  "  send 
the  prisoner,  under  guard,  to  Colonel  Wyndham." 

The  lieutenant  touched  his  hat — I  remember  he  was  a  villian- 
ous-looking  fellow — and  three  men  separated  themselves  from 
the  column  and  took  charge  of  me. 

"Kill  him,  if  he  tries  to  escape,"  said  the  humorous  officer. 

The  men  cocked  their  carbines,  and  rested  them  across  their 
pommels ;  and,  with  this  pleasing  escort,  I  was  conducted,  by  a 
winding  road  through  the  woods,  to  a  house  near  the  main  road, 
which  I  had  remembered  passing  on  the  preceding  evening. 

Here   superbly  equipped  horses   were   seen   tethered  to  tha 


SIR    PERCY    WYNDHAM.  209 

boughs  and  fences — couriers  went  and  came — and  my  escort 
conducted  me  into  the  presence  of  Sir  Percy  Wyndham,  com- 
manding the  cavalry  advance-guard  of  the  Federal  forces. 


LIX. 

I  MAKE  THE  ACQUAINTANCE  OF  SIR  PERCY  WYNDHAM. 

I  found  myself  in  the  plain  sitting-room  of  a  small  farm-house. 
On  a  table  were  spread  maps  and  papers ;  and  a  bottle  of  wine 
raised  its  slender  neck,  flanked  by  glasses. 

Lolling  in  a  split-bottomed  rocking-chair  was  a  tall,  fine  look- 
ing personage,  clad  in  a  superb  uniform,  and  wearing  a  sabre 
with  a  magnificently  chased  hilt,  which  rattled  against  fine 
French  cavalry  boots,  decorated  with  enormous  spurs.  The 
countenance  of  this  officer  was  ruddy,  handsome,  and  full  of 
pride.  His  hair  was  light,  long,  and  worn  in  curls.  It  was  a 
military  Adonis  I  saw  before  me  in  the  person  of  Sir  Percy. 

"Wben  I  entered,  he  was  talking  with  a  sleek  personage,  clad 
in  citizen's  dress,  who  had  on  his  knees  a  portfolio,  in  which  lay 
some  loose  sheets  of  paper  covered  with  writing.  Upon  my  ap- 
pearance, this  gentleman  seized  a  pen,  dipped  it  in  the  ink,  and 
held  it  poised  above  his  paper,  with  the  air  of  a  man  who  Is  going 
to  report  a  public  speech. 

"A  prisoner,  Colonel,"  said  my  escort. 

The  Colonel  wheeled  round  in  his  chair  and  looked  keenly  at 
me. 

"  "When  were  you  captured  ?" 

"  Half  an  hour  ago." 

"  You  are  an  officer — a  major,  I  see.     What  command  ?" 

"  I  have  already  replied  to  that  question." 

"  To  whom  ?" 

"  The  officer  who  captured  me." 

"  "Well,  sir,  you  can,  no  doubt,  favor  me  with  a  repetition  of 
your  reply." 

I  replied  that  I  belonged  to  the  Confederate  States  Army. 


210  SURRY    OF    EAGLE'S-NEST. 

"  Close,  Colonel !"  here  interposed  the  sleek  gentleman  in 
black,  who  had  hastily  scratched  away  at  his  paper  as  this  dia- 
logue took  place. 

;'  A  perfect  trap !"  exclaimed  the  Colonel,  lolling  carelessly 
back  in  his  chair  ;  "  but  I  have  never  known  a  single  rebel  offi- 
cer who  had  not  this  exaggerated  idea  of  the  importance  of 
secrecy  in  every  thing.  Now,  I  make  no  mystery  of  my  move- 
ments— none." 

"  You  are  going  to  '  bag  Ashby,'  Colonel,  and  that's  a  fact,1 ' 
came,  with  a  laugh,  from  the  sleek  personage. 

"  I  swear  I  will!  At  least  you  can  tell  me,  sir,"  he  added,  turn- 
ing to  me,  "  whether  you  know  General  Ashby." 

M  Intimately,  sir." 

"  Ah  ?"  and  the  Colonel  rose  in  his  chair. 

"  I  have  been  with  him  throughout  the  retreat — though  I  am 
not  attached  to  his  command." 

These  words  seemed  to  attract  the  Colonel's  attention  and  ex- 
cite his  interest. 

"  Take  a  seat,  Major,"  he  said.    "I  did  not  hear  your  name" — 

"  Surry." 

"  An  English  name.  You  Virginians  come  of  the  genuine 
English  stock — and  ought  to  fight  well." 

"  We  try  to  do  the  best  we  can,  Colonel." 

"  And  you  do  it  devilish  well,  Major.  Ashby  has  given  me  a 
world  of  trouble." 

"  He  will  be  delighted  to  hear  it,  when  I  get  back." 

"  Ha !  but  I  am  not  going  to  part  with  you  so  soon,  my  dear 
sir.     Let  us  talk  a  little  first." 

"  Willingly,  Colonel." 

"  I  have  sworn  to  capture  Ashby." 

"  Don't  you  think  it  is  a  difficult  undertaking  ?" 

"  Well,  he  is  cool  and  watchful  enough,  but  I  will  get  the  betteT 
of  him  yet.     I  thought  I  had  him  the  other  day  at  the  bridge." 

•'  Over  the  Shenandoah  ?" 

"  Yes — did  you  witness  the  chase  after  him?" 

"  I  was  with  him." 

"  Ah  !  then  you  were  the  other  officer  we  ran  ?" 


SIR    PERCY    WYNDHAM.  211 

"  Yes,  Colonel :  but  your  pursuing  party  went  a  little  too  far." 

"  How  ?" 

"  Ashby  cut  down  one  with  his  sabre,  and  the  other  was 
shot." 

The  Colonel  frowned. 

"  And  that's  a  fact,  Sir  Percy,"  said  the  sleek  gentleman,  scrib- 
bling away.     "I  saw  the  bodies  as  we  passed." 

"Curse  what  you  saw,  sir!"  was  the  growling  reply. 

"I  wouldn't  take  any  thing  for  that  incident,  Colonel  I"  ex- 
claimed the  newspaper  correspondent — for  such  he  evidently 
was :  "  rapid  retreat  of  rebels,  pursued  by  victorious  Union- 
ists— bridge  burning  in  their  rear — Ashby  on  white  charger,  l  re- 
tiring' at  full  gallop — unfortunate  fate  of  two  of  his  pursuers, 
who,  surrounded  by  a  whole  brigade  of  rebel  cavalry,  fought 
their  way  nearly  out,  but  were  finally  killed  by  treacherous  blows 
from  behind:  it  will  be  splendid,  Colonel!" 

A  careless  laugh  from  the  Colonel  greeted  this  magnificent  pic- 
ture, and,  at  the  same  moment,  an  officer  galloped  up  and  en- 
tered. 

"Well?"  said  the  Colonel. 

"  The  enemy  are  falling  back  again,  sir — the  road  is  clear  in 
front." 

"  Entirely  ?" 

"  Nothing  seen,  sir,  but  a  detachment  of  cavalry,  commanded 
by  General  Ashby." 

"How  do  you  know  that?" 

"  I  saw  him  distinctly  through  my  glass,  and  know  him  per- 
fectly." 

The  Colonel  started  up. 

"Order  a  squadron  of  picked  men  to  report  to  me  here,  in 
fifteen  minutes,"  he  said  to  a  staff-officer  on  the  porch  of  the 
farm-house. 

Then,  turning  to  the  newspaper  correspondent,  he  said : 

"  Do  you  wish  to  secure  material  for  a  fine  paragraph  ?" 

"I  would  go  through  fire  and  blood  to  do  so!"  exclaimed  the 
correspondent,  in  a  martial  tone,  and  brandishing  his  pen. 

"You  \ike  amusement?" 


212  SURRY    OF    EAGLE'S-NEST. 

"  I  am  devoted  to  it,  Colonel." 

"  Wei],  come  with  me,  and  you  will  see  some  fun."   , 

"  What  is  your  design,  Colonel?" 

"  To  bag  Ashby."  * 

And  the  Colonel  twirled  his  mustache  with  joyful  ardor.  A 
quick  thrill  ran  through  me,  and,  assuming  a  careless  tone,  I 
turned  to  Sir  Percy,  and  said  : 

"I  really  should  like  to  be  present  at  that  little  affair, 
Colonel." 

"You!" 

"I  can  ride  in  the  rear,  under  guard,  and,  in  either  event, 
there  will  be  small  danger  of  my  escaping." 

"In  'either  event!'  My  dear  sir,  I  intend  to  capture  your 
General  Ashby  as  surely  as  the  sun  shines.  As  you  doubt  it,  have 
your  wish,  and  come  and  see  me  do  it." 

"And  I,  Colonel,"  said  the  correspondent. 

"  Of  course !  You  are  the  historian  to  hand  me  down  to 
posterity." 

As  the  Colonel,  now  in  high  good-humor,  turned  away,  I  saw 
a  grimace  upon  the  countenance  of  the  correspondent.  He  was 
evidently  a  philosopher,  and  estimated  the  element  of  failure  in 
all  human  affairs. 

In  ten  minutes  we  were  all  in  the  saddle — the  Colonel  riding 
at  the  head  of  the  squadron  at  a  trot,  on  the  straight  road  to 
Cross  Keys. 


LX. 

HOW  ASHBY  WAS  NOT  "BAGGED"  BY  SIR  PERCY. 

The  column  had  not  advanced  half  a  mile  when  Ashby's 
cavalry  pickets  appeared  in  front,  reconnoitring  from  a  hill. 

The  vedettes  held  their  ground  until  the  column  was  nearly 
upon  them— when  they  galloped  off. 

The  same   ceremony  was   repeated    at  the   next  hill,  and  as 

*  His  words.      See  the  newspapers  of  the  clay,  containing  the   correspondent's 
lettor. 


ASHBY  NOT   "BAGGED."  213 

Colonel  "Wyndham  continued  to  advance  without  flankers,  my 
heart  began  to  beat  and  my  hopes  to  rise  high. 

I  knew  how  dangerous  it  was  to  trifle  with  an  adversary  like 
Ashby,  and  the  incautious  method  of  advancing  adopted  by  the 
Federal  Colonel  subjected  him,  I  knew,  to  imminent  peril  of 
capture. 

In  thirty  minutes,  events  took  place  which  fully  supported  ray 
view  of  the  subject. 

Reaching  a  point  where  the  road  traversed  some  low  grounds, 
between  two  low  ranges  of  hills  on  either  side,  Colonel  "Wynd- 
ham saw  in  front  of  him,  at  the  distance  of  about  four  hundred 
yards,  a  small  body  of  cavalry,  which  slowly  retired  as  he  ap- 
peared. 

The  Colonel  greeted  the  spectacle  with  unmistakable  pleasure. 

"Now  for  it!"  I  heard  him  call  out  to  his  friend,  the  corre- 
spondent, who  had  prudently  withdrawn  to  the  side  of  the 
road.     "  Look  out  for  some  fun !" 

And,  placing  himself  in  front  of  his  column,  the  Colonel  drew 
his  sabre,  and  gave  the  order  to  "  charge  !" 

The  column  rushed  forward  at  the  word — but  oh  !  disastrous 
event! — occurrence  ever  to  be  deplored! — no  sooner  had  the 
horses  of  the  Federal  cavalry-men  run  thrice  their  length,  than 
the  crest  on  the  right  of  the  road,  in  their  rear,  suddenly  bristled 
with  sabres— and  a  squadron,  led  by  Ashby  in  person,  thundered 
down,  and  fell,  with  shouts,  upon  the  Federal  rear.  At  the 
same  instant,  the  detachment  in  front,  which  had  served  as  a 
decoy,  charged  the  enemy  full  tilt — and,  caught  between  this 
double  fire,  cut  off,  surrounded,  dumb-foundered,  the  Federal 
r :ivalry-men  threw  down  their  arms  and  surrendered. * 

I  was  recaptured,  and  now  found  myself  by  Ashby's  side,  face 
to  face  with  Colonel  Wyndham.  The  newspaper  correspondent 
had  glided  into  the  woods  and  escaped. 

I  shall  never  forget  the  expression  of  the  Federal  Colonel's 
countenance  at  that  moment.  If  ever  rage,  mortification,  and 
astonishment  were  depicted  on  the  human  face,  his  displayed  them. 

*  Historical. 


214  SURRY    OF    EAG-LE'S-NEST. 

"When  he  caught  my  eye,  he  glanced  at  me  like  a  tiger,  and 
turned  abruptly  away. 

Ashby  treated  his  prisoner  with  that  calm  courtesy  which 
characterized  him,  but  the  Colonel  would  not  be  mollified.  His 
face  was  flushed,  his  eyes  full  of  lurid  light — wrath  had  mastered 
him.  The  few  words  he  blurted  out  had  something  savage  in 
them ;  and  when  he  was  conducted  to  the  rear,  through  the 
lines  of  infantry,  I  heard  that  his  wrath  exploded. 

Some  one  among  the  men  greeted  him,  I  heard,  with  the 
words:  "Just  look  at  the  Yankee  Colonel!"  when  his  long 
pent-up  anger  burst  forth  like  a  torrent.  His  peculiar  abhor- 
rence, it  is  said,  was  to  be  considered  a  "Yankee" — and  this 
was  the  straw  that  broke  the  camel's  back. 

Ashby  captured  sixty-four  men,  if  my  memory  serves  me,  by 
this  ambush ;  and  these  were  now  sent  to  the  rear. 

"  Your  luck  is  extraordinary,  my  dear  Surry,"  he  said,  "  to  be 
captured  and  recaptured  both  in  one  day.  I  am  truly  glad  to  see 
you  again.     Come,  tell  me  about  it." 

I  narrated  all  that  occurred,  and  my  companion  said,  with  a 
smile : 

"The  worst  of  all  possible  habits  in  a  commander  is  to  boast 
of  what  he  is  going  to  do." 

"  Especially  when  he  doesn't  do  it." 

And  we  rode  on. 


LXI. 

ASHBY    AMONG    HIS    MEN. 

On  the  same  night,  I  went  to  carry  a  message  to  Ashby,  and 
found  him  seated  at  the  bivouac  fire,  in  the  midst  of  a  circle  of 
his  men,  with  whom  he  was  conversing  like  one  of  their  own 
comrades. 

His  sword  and  pistols  were  buckled  around  his  waist ;  his 
horse  stood  ready  saddled  near ;  his  swarthy  face,  with  its  heavy 
black  beard,  shone  in  the  fire-light. 


ASIIBY    AMONG    HIS    MEN.  215 

Room  was  made  for  me  at  the  fire,  my  message  delivered,  and 
the  conversation  went  on  between  Ashby  and  his  men. 

The  scene  was  striking  and  picturesque.  All  around  the  rude 
bivouac  the  horses  were  picketed  to  the  trees,  and  beyond  the 
circle  of  fire-light  dusky  figures  came  and  went  like  phantoms. 
The  great  tree-trunks  rose  all  around  ;  the  heavy  foliage  of  June 
drooped  above ;  and,  scattered  in  groups  around  the  brushwood 
fire,  upon  which  some  rails  from  an  adjoining  fence  had  been 
thrown,  were  the  rudely-clad  figures  of  the  cavalry-men. 

It  was  impossible  to  discover  in  Ashby's  demeanor  toward 
his  men  the  least  consciousness  of  his  superior  rank.  His  man- 
ner was  the  perfection  of  unassuming  simplicity  :  you  would 
have  said  that  the  party  were  a  band  of  huntsmen,  of  whom  he 
was  one. 

A  thousand  witticisms  were  uttered — a  thousand  adventures 
related.  Ashby  listened  with  a  smile,  and,  with  "Well,  boys," 
by  way  of  commencement,  took  his  part  in  the  story-telling. 
Then  some  one  began  to  sing. 

It  was  a  wild  and  plaintive  air,  like  the  sigh  of  the  wind 
through  the  trees  overhead,  or  the  low  sound  of  the  pines  in 
the  breezes  of  autumn.  It  commemorated  the  exploits  of 
Ashby;  and,  I  remember  every  verse  wound  up  with  the 
chorus : 

"  Strike,  freemen !  for  your  country, 
Sheathe  your  swords  no  more, 
While  remains  in  arms  a  Yankee, 
On  Virginia's  shore!" 

The  words  were  rude  and  destitute  of  poetic  merit,  but  the 
air  was  wild  and  touching.  The  men  listened  in  silence,  joining, 
however,  with  full  voices  in  the  chorus. 

When  the  singer  had  finished,  Ashby  rose  and  said  : 

"  Well,  boys,  it  is  getting  late,  and  you  had  better  go  to  sleep. 
We  may  have  tough  work  to-morrow — perhaps  to-night." 

And  he  mounted  his  horse,  which  one  of  the  men  led  for- 
ward. 

"  Good  night,  General,"  came  from  the  group,  who  stood  up; 
and    we    rode   back  to  a  point  where  a   small  fire   had   been 


216  SURRY    OF    EAGLE'S-NEST. 

kindled  b}  the  General's  servant  for  himself  and  his  staff.  They 
were  all  asleep,  and,  sitting  down  by  the  fire,  we  talked  for  a 
few  moments. 

Ashby  was  unusually  silent  and  sad. 

"  "What  is  the  matter  ?"  I  said  ;  "  has  that  doleful  air  we  heard 
put  you  in  bad  spirits  ?" 

"  Oh !  no,"  was  his  reply. 

"Perhaps  it  is  that  owl  I  hear,  with  its  melancholy  tu-whoo. 
Fie  !  mon  General,  to  be  low-spirited  without  reason!" 

"  You  may  laugh,  my  dear  Surry,  but  I  do  feel  oppressed  to- 
night. Do  you  know  that  a  curious  fancy  has  taken  possession 
of  my  mind?" 

"What  is  that?" 

"That  my  end  is  approaching — my  days  on  earth  numbered." 

"  Pshaw  !   this  is  mere  moonshine.     You  are  sick." 

"  I  never  was  in  better  health,  and  my  arm  was  never 
stronger." 

His  voice  was  sadder  than  ever,  as  he  added  in  a  low  tone : 

"I  have  been  thinking  to-night  of  my  brother  Richard." 

"And  went  yonder  to  dissipate  your  gloom?" 

"Yes." 

For  some  moments  he  remained  silent.     Then  he  said : 

"  Mine  has  been  a  sad  life  for  the  last  few  months.  I  never 
got  over  that  blow.  Why  did  this  cruel  war  come  to  make  me 
miserable  ?  I  would  cheerfully  have  given  my  own  ooor  life — 
but  not  my  brother's." 

"  Your  own  has  been  worth  much  to  the  country — you  can- 
not be  ignorant  of  that." 

My  companion  smiled  faintly  and  shook  his  head. 

"  Don't  let  your  friendship  induce  you  to  flatter  me.  I  am  not 
much.  It  would  puzzle  you  to  find  any  sort  of  accomplishment 
in  me  except  the  art  of  riding.  I  believe  I  am  a  good  rider — I 
ought  to  be,  as  I  have  been  in  the  saddle,  riding  over  the  hills 
of  Fauquier,  since  my  childhood  ;  but  that  is  all.  I  am  not 
intellectual,  as  Richard  was,  and  I  can  hardly  write  at  all.  As 
to  my  soldiei^ship,  SuiTy,  I  am  a  mere  partisan  with  good  eyes 
and  ears,  not  an  educated  officer." 


ASHBY    AMONG    HIS    MEN.  217 

"Is  West  Point  every  thing?" 

"  I  confess  it  does  not  make  a  great  soldier,  but  I  sadly  need 
training.  Well,  I  have  done  what  I  could.  Little  as  it  is,  it  was 
my  best,  and  no  man  can  do  more.  I  can  say,  if  I  fall,  '  I  gave 
my  country  all  I  possessed.'  " 

"  No  one  can  say  more." 

"  It  is  my  pride  to  be  able  to  declare  as  much.  I  did  not  go 
into  this  war  to  receive  military  renown,  or  gain  rank.  God 
knows  I  would  have  laid  down  my  life  to  prevent  it.  But  what 
could  I  do?  Our  soil  was  invaded;  I  was  a  Virginia  gentle- 
man ;  I  should  have  died  of  shame  had  I  remained  at  home. 
For  the  proud,  hard-riding  Ashbys  to  have  proved  laggards  was 
impossible.  So  I  took  my  part — and  then  came  that  heavy  blow 
which  you  know  of.  I  confess  that  it  made  me  bitter,  and 
has  added  force  to  many  a  blow  of  my  sabre.  I  have  killed 
many.  I  pitied  these  people  sometimes  when  my  men  were 
cutting  them  to  pieces,  but  then  I  seemed  to  hear  a  voice  in  my 
ears,  '  Eemember  Richard!'  The  thought  made  me  merciless, 
and  steeled  my  heart.  I  have  no  doubt  that  yonder  in  the  North 
they  represent  me  as  a  bandit  and  ruffian,  but  I  appeal  to  my 
life  to  confute  their  charges.  I  have  fought  fairly  and  openly  ; 
I  have  never  oppressed  the  weak,  or  ill-treated  a  prisoner.  In 
Winchester,  some  ladies  from  the  North  came  to  me  and  said, 
'  General  Ashby,  we  have  nothing  contraband  in  our  baggage 
or  on  our  persons.  You  can  search  us.'  I  bowed  to  them  and 
said,  '  I  am  a  Virginia  gentleman  ;  we  do  not  search  the  trunks 
or  persons  of  ladies  here,  madam.'  You  seel  boast — but  I  am 
proud  to  remember  that  I  have  never  done  any  thing  which  was 
unworthy  of  my  father's  son.  I  have  carried  on  hostilities,  in 
this  struggle  which  my  whole  heart  approves,  as  a  Virginia 
gentleman  should.     That  consolation,  at  least,  remains." 

"  And  it  ought  to  be  supreme." 

"  It  is.  I  have  no  self-reproach — no  regrets.  If  I  could  have 
done  more  for  old  Virginia,  I  would." 

"  It  is  something  at  least  to  have  lived  in  the  saddle,  watched 
day  and  night,  and  risked  your  life  every  hour  " 

"  Risked  my  life?     Is  that  much  to  risk  ?" 
10 


218  SURRY   OF  EAGLE'S-NEST. 

"  It  is  to  most  men." 

"It  is  not  to  me." 

"  I  understand  —since  your  great  misfortune.  But  he  died 
like  a  Southern  gentleman,  fighting  to  the  last." 

"Well,  I  hope  to  do  so,  too." 

And,  making  an  evident  effort  to  hanish  his  gloom,  Ashby  began 
to  converse  upon  the  events  of  the  morning.  I  drew  as  grotesque 
a  picture  as  possible  of  the  confident  Sir  Percy,  and  the  sleek 
newspaper-correspondent,  to  make  him  laugh,  but  I  could  not 
succeed.     His  sadness  seemed  beyond  the  power  of  words. 

Taking  my  leave  at  last,  with  that  grasp  of  the  hand  we  bestow 
upon  friends  in  time  of  war — friends  whose  faces  we  may  never 
see  again — I  mounted  my  horse,  and  set  out  on  my  return. 

Fifty  yards  from  the  bivouac  fire,  I  chanced  to  turn  my  head. 

Ashby  was  upon  his  knees,  praying. 


LXII. 

"  VIRGINIANS,    CHARGE !" 

General  Fremont  continued  to  press  forward  from  Harrison- 
burg upon  Jackson's  rear,  while  General  Shields  hastened  up  to 
intercept  him  between  Port  Republic  and  the  Blue  Ridge. 

The  rear  of  the  army  was  near  Cross  Keys,  when,  as  I  was 
riding  along  with  General  Jackson,  a  courier  came  from  Ashby 
with  a  dispatch. 

Jackson  read  it,  and  then,  handing  it  to  me,  said  : 

"  Major,  ascertain  what  force  of  infantry  General  Ashby  re- 
quires, and  see  that  he  gets  it." 

As  I  went  to  execute  this  order,  I  read  the  note.  Ashby 
stated  that  one  or  two  regiments  of  Federal  infantry  were  press- 
ing forward  incautiously  ahead  of  their  column,  and  that  with  a 
small  force  he  felt  convinced  he  could  flank  and  capture  them. 
To  obtain  General  Jackson's  sanction  of  this  movement  was  the 
object  of  his  note. 

I   found    Ashby  on   the   summit  of  a  hill,  pointing   out,  with 


"VIRGINIANS,     CHARGE!"  219 

animated  gestures,  to  General  Ewell,  the  peculiarities  of  the 
ground,  and  its  adaptation  to  a  battle.  He  had  completely  lost 
all  his  sadness  of  the  preceding  night ;  his  swarthy  face  was  full 
of  ardor  ;  his  eyes  brilliant  with  the  thought  of  the  approaching 
contest. 

So  striking  was  this  animation  in  every  gesture  and  movement, 
that,  as  I  passed  the  First  Maryland  Regiment,  drawn  up  on  the 
side  of  the  road  near  at  hand,  I  saw  its  commanding  officer, 
Colonel  Bradley  Johnson,  point  to  the  two  Generals,  and  heard 
him  say : 

"Look  at  Ashby  enjoying  himself."* 

I  saluted  and  informed  General  Ashby  of  Jackson's  response 
to  his  note.     He  could  have  any  force  he  desired. 

"  Two  regiments  will  do,"  was  his  quick  reply.  "  I  will  take 
the  First  Maryland  and  the  Fifty-eighth  Virginia  yonder — though 
it  is  a  mere  handful.  Look  at  them!"  he  exclaimed,  with  his 
arm  extended  at  full  length,  "  look !  they  are  coining  on  as  if  we 
were  chaff  to  be  scattered  to  the  winds!" 

And  he  pointed  out  a  dark  column  on  the  road  ahead,  tipped 
with  burnished  bayonets. 

Preparations  were  rapidly  made  for  the  projected  attack. 
Ashby's  design  was  to  make  a  circuit  to  the  right  with  his  in- 
fantry, while  his  cavalry  remained  in  the  road  before  the  ad- 
vancing column,  as  a  decoy ;  and  at  the  moment  when  the  Fede- 
ral infantry  came  opposite  to  him,  exposing  its  flank,  to  make  a 
sudden  and  determined  attack  upon  it. 

But  for  one  of  those  unforeseen  incidents  which  interpose  in 
all  human  affairs,  this  skilful  conception  would  have  been  crowned 
with  complete  success.     What  defeated  it  will  now  be  related. 

Ashby  hastened  to  the  spot  where  the  two  regiments  were 
drawn  up  under  arms,  and  rapidly  issued  his  orders.  The  troops 
were  concealed  from  the  enemy  by  the  hill,  on  which  the  cavalry 
were  drawn  up,  and  there  was  no  difficulty  in  moving  them, 
without  discovery,  in  the  direction  proposed. 

They  were  promptly  in  motion,  and,  exclaiming,  "  Come,  Surry, 

*  His  word*. 


220  SURRY   OF  EAGLE'S-NEST. 

and  see  me  attack  them  I"  Ashby  galloped  ahead,  followed  at  a 
rapid  pace  by  the  infantry. 

We  had  ridden  about  half  a  mile,  when  suddenly  the  report 
of  a  gun  came  from  a  body  of  woods  in  front  of  us,  and  a  bullet 
whistled  by  our  heads. 

"What  can  that  be?"  exclaimed  Ashby,  riding  coolly  ahead; 
"there  can  be  nothing  here." 

"  Can  the  enemy  have  conceived  the  same  plan  as  yours — and 
got  thus  far?" 

"It  is  hardly  possible." 

Suddenly,  in  a  dense  skirting  of  undergrowth  which  ran  along 
a  fence  on  the  edge  of  the  woods,  I  saw  the  glitter  of  bay- 
onets. 

"  Take  care !     There  is  their  line !"  I  exclaimed. 

As  I  spoke,  a  blaze  ran  along  the  fence,  and  a  storm  of  bullets 
whistled  around  us. 

Ashby  turned  and  galloped  back  to  his  infantry. 

"Forward!  double-quick!"  was  his  ringing  order,  and,  rapidly 
oommunicating  with  the  Colonels,  he  gave  his  directions. 

The  Fifty-eighth  Virginia  was  to  charge  the  enemy  in  front, 
while  the  First  Maryland,  formed  upon  its  left,  was  to  turn  the 
Federal  right,  pour  a  cross-fire  upon  them,  and  then  charge  with 
the  bayonet. 

In  three  minutes  line  of  battle  was  formed,  and  every  thing 
ready  for  the  attack. 

Ashby  placed  himself,  still  on  horseback,  at  the  head  of  the 
Fifty-eighth  Virginia,  which  resembled  a  small  battalion  rather 
than  a  regiment,  and  Colonel  Johnson  gallantly  advanced  at  the 
head  of  the  Marylanders  on  the  left. 

I  shall  never  forget  the  appearance  of  the  landscape  at  this 
moment.  In  front  was  a  wheat  field  waving  with  ripe  grain, 
over  which  rippled  long  shadows  as  the  wind  swept  it ;  and 
beyond  extended  the  heavy  foliage  of  the  woodland,  mellowed 
by  the  golden  light  of  the  calm  June  evening.  The  sun  was 
slowly  sinking  behind  a  bank  of  orange  clouds :  the  serene  canopy 
of  soft  azure,  touched  with  gold,  stretched  overhead.  It  was 
hard  to  believe  that  this  beautiful  landscape,  where  seemed  to 


"VIRGINIANS,    CHARGE!"  221 

reign  the  very  genius  of  repose,  was  about  to  become  the  theatre 
of  a  fierce  and  sanguinary  conflict. 

That  conflict  was  not  delayed.  Ashby  found  his  plan  of  flank- 
ing and  surprising  the  enemy  completely  thwarted  •  but  there 
they  were  before  him — they  had  thrown  down  the  challenge — 
and  he  was  not  the  man  to  refuse  it. 

Storn,  obstinate  "  fight "  was  in  his  bronze  face  and  sparkling 
eyes,  as  he  rapidly  threw  forward  his  line  toward  the  fringe  of 
bushes  on  the  edge  of  the  woods,  where  the  enemy  were  con- 
cealed ;  and,  in  an  instant,  the  action  commenced. 

It  speedily  began  to  rage  with  extraordinary  fury.  The  Fifty- 
eighth  Virginia  poured  volley  after  volley  into  the  undergrowth, 
where,  lying  behind  a  fence,  the  Federal  line  awaited  their  at- 
tack; and  from  the  left  was  heard  the  hot  fire  of  the  Maryland- 
ers,  rapidly  advancing  to  turn  the  Federal  flank. 

They  now  saw  their  danger,  and  opened  a  rapid  and  destructive 
fire  both  upon  the  Virginians  and  Marylanders,  in  front  and 
flank.  The  undergrowth  blazed  with  musketry;  a  continuous 
roar  reverberated  through  the  woods;  and  the  enemy — the 
Pennsylvania  "Bucktails,"  Colonel  Kane — met  the  attack  upon 
them  with  a  gallantry  which  proved  that  they  were  picked 
troops. 

Ashby  continued  to  advance  on  horseback  at  the  head  of  the 
Virginians,  waving  his  sword  and  cheering  them  on ;  and  Colonel 
Johnson  pressed  forward,  pouring  a  hot  fire  into  the  enemy's 
flank.  The  latter  had  now  gotten  so  close,  and  was  in  so  favor- 
ahle  a  position  for  a  final  charge,  that  Ashby  saw  the  moment 
had  come  for  the  bayonet. 

At  that  instant  his  appearance  was  superb.  He  was  riding  a 
bay  horse — the  same  ridden  by  Jackson  at  the  first  battle  of 
Manassas  * — and  as  he  reined  in  the  excited  animal  with  one 
hand,  and  pointed  with  the  sword  in  his  other  to  the  enemy,  his 
dark  face  was  full  of  the  fire  of  battle,  his  eyes  blazed,  and  in  his 
voice,  as  clear  and  sonorous  as  the  ring  of  a  clarion,  spoke,  as  it 
were,  the  very  genius  of  battle. 


*  Historical.     This  horse  was  the  property  of  Lieutenant  James  Thomson,  <)/  Wv» 
Horse  Artillery — one  of  the  bravest  spirits  of  the  war. 


222  SURRY    OF    BAGLE'S-NEST. 

I  think  of  him  often  as  I  saw  him  at  that  moment,  charging, 
with  unconquerable  spirit,  at  the  head  of  his  men. 

The  Marylanders  were  almost  in  contact  with  the  enemy  when 
Ashby  ordered  the  men  of  the  Fifty-eighth  to  cease  their  fire, 
and  close  upon  the  enemy  with  the  bayonet. 

"Virginians,  charge!"*  came  ringing  from  his  lips,  when  a 
bullet  suddenly  pierced  his  horse's  chest,  and,  advancing  a  few 
yards,  the  animal  reeled  and  fell. 

Ashby  was  upon  his  feet  in  a  moment,  and,  pointing  with  his 
sword  to  the  Federal  line,  now  not  more  than  fifty  yards  distant, 
continued  to  cheer  on  the  men — when  all  at  once  I  saw  him 
stagger.  A  bullet  had  penetrated  his  breast,  and  I  caught  him 
in  my  arms,  just  as  he  was  falling. 

"You  are  wounded  !"  I  exclaimed. 

"  I  am  done  for,  Surry,"  he  replied,  faintly ;  then  extending 
his  arm,  while  I  saw  the  pallor  of  death  overspread  his  features, 
he  murmured : 

"  Tell  my  Virginians  to  press  them  with  the  bayonet!" 

His  head  fell  back  as  he  spoke,  and  I  laid  him  on  the  ground, 
supporting  his  shoulders  upon  my  breast. 

"I  told  you — last  night — but  it  is  a  good  death!"  he  mur- 
mured. 

At  that  instant  the  shouts  of  the  Southerners  told  that  they 
had  driven  the  enemy  before  them,  and  were  hotly  pursuing  them 
through  the  woods. 

"What  is  that?"  exclaimed  Ashby,  half  rising,  with  a  flush 
upon  his  face. 

"  The  enemy  are  flying." 

A  sudden  light  flashed  from  his  eyes,  he  tried  to  rise,  but  fell 
back  in  my  arms. 

"Tell  them  I  died  in  harness,  fighting  to  the  last!"  he  ex- 
claimed— and,  as  the  words  left  his  lips^  he  expired. 

Such  was  the  death  of  Ashby,  "  the  Knight  of  the  Valley." 

*  His  words. 


CUT    OFF.  223 

LXIII. 

CUT     OFF. 

With  Ashby  seemed  to  pass  away  all  the  splendor,  the  glory, 
the  romance  of  the  war.  I  could  scarcely  realize  that  the  whole 
scene  which  I  had  witnessed  was  not  some  hideous  dream — some 
nightmare  of  the  hours  of  darkness. 

Dead? — he  who  had  passed  unscathed  through  so  many  bloody 
encounters — who  had  seemed  to  possess  a  charmed  life  which 
no  enemy's  ball  or  blade  could  touch  ?  Ashby,  the  hero  of  such 
romantic  adventures,  splendid  achievements,  and  heroic  exploits, 
dead,  like  a  common,  every- day  mortal,  and  never  more  to  lead 
his  men,  with  flashing  sabre,  in  the  charge  ?  The  idea  seemed 
monstrous — incredible. 

But  slowly  came  the  realization  of  the  truth.  He  was  gone — 
the  dauntless  cavalier,  the  noble  gentleman,  the  charming  and 
winning  companion.  Who  could  supply  his  place  ?  Under 
whom  would  the  horsemen  of  the  Valley  fight  so  recklessly  ? — 
and  what  other  leader  could  inspire  them  with  that  spirit  which 
overthrows  all  obstacles  ? 

I  asked  myself  that  question,  and  then  came  another  thought 
— where  will  you  find  another  friend  like  this  pure  spirit  ? — who 
can  take  his  place  with  you  ? 

I  cannot  draw  the  great  outline  of  this  splendid  chevalier  in 
my  hasty  memoirs;  some  abler  hand  will  trace  it — some  more 
eloquent  voice  speak  of  his  virtues.  For  me,  I  loved  and  will 
ever  love  him,  as  the  perfect  flower  of  chivalry.  When  he  dis- 
appeared, the  bloom  seemed  to  pass  away  from  the  summer 
flowers,  the  azure  from  the  calm  June  sky.  Brave  men  were 
left,  and  the  future  was  to  be  as  glorious  as  the  past — but,  with 
this  gentle  heart,  this  perfect  chevalier,  seemed  to  fade  the  splen- 
dor and  romance  of  the  fresh  dewy  morning  of  the  war.  Thence- 
forth, it  was  a  thing  of  sweat  and  blood  and  toil  under  a  burning 
sky. 

I  come  back  to  the  narrative  of  events. 


224  SURRY    OP    EAGLE'S-NEST. 

The  column  under  General  Fremont  was  now  pressing  hotly 
upon  Jackson's  rear,  between  Harrisonburg  and  Port  Republic ; 
and  that  under  General  Shields  was  hastening  rapidly  to  place 
itself  between  him  and  Brown's  Gap — the  avenue  of  exit  from 
the  Valley.  Jackson  must  retreat,  if  he  retreated  at  all,  by  that 
Gap,  as  the  panic-stricken  citizens  had  destroyed  the  bridges 
above  Harrisonburg ;  and,  if  General  Premont  could  only  delay 
his  adversary  sufficiently  long  to  enable  General  Shields  to  come 
up,  the  fate  of  the  Confederate  commander  seemed  decided. 

Prom  this  moment  commenced  that  admirable  game  of  strategy 
by  which  Jackson  aimed  to  crush  his  adversaries  in  detail.  He 
had  destroyed  the  bridge  over  the  Shenandoah  at  Conrad's  Store, 
thereby  preventing  a  junction  between  the  two  Federal  columns  ; 
and,  establishing  his  head-quarters  in  the  town  of  Port  Republic, 
prepared,  with  his  main  body,  to  attack  General  Shields,  while 
Ewell  remained  in  front  of  General  Fremont,  and  held  him  in 
check.  Shields  once  defeated,  Jackson  intended  to  recross  to 
the  west  bank  of  the  Shenandoah,  re-enforce  Ewell,  and,  falling 
upon  General  Fremont,  decide  every  thing  by  a  pitched  battle. 

I  shall  not  stop  here  to  speak  of  General  Jackson's  emotion 
when  he  received  intelligence  of  the  death  of  Ashby.  His  opinion 
of  that  officer  was  afterward  expressed  in  his  report.  "  An 
official  report,"  wrote  Jackson,  "is  not  an  appropriate  place  for 
more  than  a  passing  notice  of  the  distinguished  dead ;  but  the 
close  relation  which  General  Ashby  bore  to  my  command,  for 
most  of  the  previous  twelve  months,  will  justify  me  in  saying 
that,  as  a  partisan  officer,  I  never  knew  his  superior.  His  daring 
was  proverbial ;  his  powers  of  endurance  almost  incredible  ;  his 
tone  of  character  heroic ;  and  his  sagacity  almost  intuitive  in 
divining  the  purposes  and  movements  of  the  enemy." 

Such  was  the  epitaph  of  Ashby,  traced  by  the  hand  of  Jackson. 
It  will  live  in  the  memories  of  the  people  of  Virginia  when 
bronze  has  rusted  away  and  the  hard  marble  crumbled  into  dust. 

Jackson's  head-quarters  had  been  established,  as  I  have  said, 
at  Port  Republic — with  his  own  division  just  opposite  the  town, 
on  the  western  bank  of  the  Shenandoah,  and  Ewell  at  Cross 
Keys,  a  few  miles  distant  toward  Harrisonburg — when,  early  on 


CUT    OFF.  225 

the  morning  of  the  8th  of  June,  a  company  of  cavalry,  which  had 
been  sent  down  the  Luray  Valley,  came  galloping  panic-stricken 
into  the  town,  announcing  the  rapid  approach  of  Shields. 

The  truth  of  the  report  was  soon  exhibited  m  a  manner  far 
from  agreeable. 

The  enemy's  advance  force  of  cavalry  and  artillery  thundered 
into  the  town  ;  a  gun  was  unlimbered  and  placed  in  battery  near 
the  bridge  over  the  Shenandoah,  so  as  completely  to  command 
it — and  Jackson  was  cut  off  from  his  army ! 

He  had  hastily  mounted,  as  the  few  scattering  shots  indicated 
the  rapid  advance  of  the  enemy ;  and,  as  he  saw  the  Federal 
artillery  unlimber  at  the  bridge,  his  face 'flushed. 

"  We  are  cut  off,  General ! "  exclaimed  one  of  the  staff. 

"Yes!"  came  curtly  from  the  General,  "but  lam  not  going 
to  remain  cut  off." 

And  he  rode,  with  perfect  coolness,  toward  the  bridge. 

I  followed,  with  an  internal  conviction  that  the  whole  party 
would  soon  be  enjoying  an  interview  with  General  Shields,  as 
his  prisoners. 

What  followed,  took  place  in  the  space  of  two  minutes. 

Jackson  rode  straight  toward  the  piece  of  artillery,  whose  grim 
muzzle  was  pointed  so  as  to  rake  the  bridge  in  front  of  it,  with 
every  cannoneer  at  his  place. 

When  he  was  within  twenty  yards  of  the  gun,  he  coolly  rose 
in  his  stirrups,  and  called  out,  in  the  calmest  possible  manner : 

"  Who  ordered  this  gun  to  be  placed  here  ?" 

I  did  not  hear  the  reply  of  the  officer  in  command  of  the  piece, 
but  he  evidently  mistook  Jackson  for  some  general  or  colonel 
of  the  Federal  forces,  and  approached  him  with  a  deferential 
salute. 

"Bring  the  gun  over  here!"  the  General  called  out. 

And,  as  the  men  hastened  to  obey,  he  set  spurs  to  his  horse 
and  darted  at  full  gallop  upon  the  bridge. 

The  whole  scene  had  taken  but  a  moment.  At  one  instant  the 
colloquy  with  the  Federal  officer  was  taking  place — at  the  next  we 
were  clattering  across  the  wooden  flooring  of  the  bridge. 

1  looked  back  as  we  went — the  cannoneers  were  running  to 
10 


226  SURRY    OF    EAGLE'S-NEST. 

their  gun ;  they  were  seen  rapidly  to  load ;  and  then  a  roar  was 
heard,  and  a  shell  screamed  over  our  heads.  Another  and  another 
followed,  so  close  that  we  felt  the  wind  which  they  made ;  but 
suddenly  we  reached  ground  which  afforded  cover — and  Jackson 
was  safe.* 

He  still  continued  his  way  at  full  speed,  and,  reaching  the 
campg  of  his  division,  which  had  been  suddenly  aroused  by  the 
firing,  caught  his  cap  from  his  head,  and,  waving  it,  exclaimed : 

"Beat  the  long  roll!" 

The  drums  rolled ;  the  troops  fell  into  line ;  and,  rushing  his 
artillery  into  position,  Jackson  opened  a  rapid  fire  upon  the 
enemy  in  the  town. 

Taliaferro's  brigade  now  hastened  forward ;  one  of  his  regi- 
ments charged  across,  capturing  the  gun  which  had  fired  upon 
us ;  and  the  enemy's  cavalry,  with  the  infantry  supports  in  their 
rear,  hastily  retreated  from  the  town,  and  were  pursued  down 
the  river. 

Such  was  the  narrow  escape  made  by  Jackson. 


LXIV. 

FREMONT    CHECKED. 

This  incident  immediately  preceded  the  battles  of  Cross  Keys 
and  Port  Republic. 

I  am  not  writing  a  history,  my  dear  reader,  and  I  refer  you  to 
the  "official  reports"  of  these  great  occurrences  for  the  move- 
ments of  the  various  bodies,  the  names  of  the  regiments  and 
brigades,  and  the  exploits  of  this  or  that  commander. 

I  write  from  memory — and  memory  is  so  treacherous  I  You 
forget  almost  all  that  is  "important,"  and  recall  only  some  trifle 
which  chanced  to  attract  your  attention.  I  picked  up  a  black 
lace  veil  when  we  captured  McOlellan's  depot  at  the   "  White 


*  The  gun  here  mentioned"  belonged,  as  I  afterward  heard,  to  Captain  Robinson'* 
battery,  from  Portsmouth,  Ohio,    lie  wu  in  command  at  the  time. 


FREMONT    CHECKED.  227 

House,"  and  I  remember  it  perfectly,  though  I  have  nearly  for- 
gotten that  great  conflagration.  At  Fredericksburg,  a  girl's 
slipper,  dropped  in  the  street  as  she  ran  from  the  enemy's  shell, 
interested  me  more  than  the  long  rows  of  bullet-riddled  houses 
and  the  bloody  action ! 

The  advance  force  of  General  Shields  had  hardly  been  driven 
from  Port  Republic  before  General  Ewell  became  hotly  engaged 
with  Fremont  at  "  Cross  Keys." 

Cross  Keys  is  a  locality  about  four  or  five  miles  from  Port 
Republic,  where  a  tavern  with  such  a  sign  used  to  stand,  I  am 
informed.  I  could  only  see  a  stream,  woods,  and  a  red  hill, 
upon  which  our  artillery  was  in  position.  On  both  flanks  were 
woods — in  front  the  road  approached  through  open  fields. 

The  enemy  advanced  and  opened  a  hot  artillery  fire  about  ten 
in  the  morning,  and  kept  it  up  for  some  hours.  Then,  as  though 
this  had  grown  tedious,  their  infantry  was  marshalled  in  heavy 
lines,  and  a  furious  attack  was  made  upon  General  Trimble,  who 
held  Ewell's  right. 

He  waited  until  the  Federal  line  had  mounted  the  crest  of  a 
hill  within  close  range,  and  then  a  blaze  ran  along  the  Southern 
lines,  and  the  crash  of  musketry  followed. 

This  sudden  and  determined  fire  produced  a  decisive  effect. 
The  Federal  line  gave  way,  fell  back  rapidly ;  and  seeing  a  bat- 
tery coming  into  position  in  his  front,  Trimble  charged  it,  and 
chased  the  whole  force  more  than  a  mile. 

Ewell  now  threw  forward  his  whole  line,  attacked  with 
vigor,  and  the  enemy  retired  before  him.  They  largely  out- 
numbered him,  as  was  ascertained  from  captured  documents,  and 
I  could  never  account  for  this  easy  victory  until  I  discovered  the 
composition  of  the  troops.     They  were  nearly  all  Dutch. 

At  nightfall,  Ewell  had  driven  the  enemy  some  distance,  es- 
tablished his  lines  considerably  in  advance,  and  then  awaited 
further  orders. 


228  SURRY    OP   E  AGLE'S-NEST. 

LXY. 

EXEUNT    OMNES. 

Jaokson  had  returned  to  his  head-quarters  in  Port  Republic, 
and  was  up  receiving  reports  and  attending  to  business  all  night. 

I  never  saw  him  cooler  or  more  collected.  Events  were  rush- 
ing on,  and  the  decisive  moment  had  at  last  arrived ;  but,  instead 
of  becoming  flurried  and  excited,  he  grew  more  calm. 

His  designs  now  became  clearly  developed.  Orders  were  dis- 
patched to  General  Ewell  to  move  his  main  force,  during  the 
night,  into  Port  Republic ;  leaving  a  small  body  of  troops  only 
in  General  Fremont's  front:  and,  an  hour  or  two  afterward, 
Colonel  Patton,  left  in  command  of  this  force,  came  to  General 
Jackson's  head-quarters  to  obtain  specific  instructions.  The 
ground  he  was  to  fall  back  over,  if  hard  pressed,  the  Colonel 
declared  to  be  exceedingly  unfavorable  for  such  a  movement; 
and  he  desired  to  ascertain  exactly  the  General's  wishes. 

"Hold  your  position  as  long  as  possible,"  was  Jackson's  reply, 
"  only  retiring  when  you  cannot  maintain  your  ground.  Then 
fall  back  slowly,  fighting  at  every  step,  and,  by  the  blessing  of 
Providence,  I  hope  to  be  with  you  before  ten  o'clock  to-mor- 
row."* 

The  General's  design  was  thus  obvious,  and  I  laid  down  to 
snatch  an  hour's  sleep,  before  the  attack  on  General  Shields. 

I  was  aroused  at  daylight.  Jackson  had  already  put  his  forces 
in  motion.  The  long  column  defiled  through  the  town  of  Port 
Republic,  crossed  the  South  River  Fork  of  the  Shenandoah  on 
some  wagon-bodies  sunk  in  the  stream,  and  soon  the  firing  in 
front  began. 

"Come,  Major!" 

And  Jackson  rapidly  got  into  the  saddle. 

"Winder  is  engaged,"  he  said,  as  we  rode  along,  "but  I  am 
afraid  the  enemy's  force  is  too  great  for  him." 

*  His  words. 


EXEUNT    OMETES.  229 

"We  reached  the  field,  about  three  miles  from  the  town,  just 
before  sunrise,  and  events  soon  occurred  which  fully  justified  the 
General's  fears. 

The  river  here  makes  a  bend  in  the  shape  of  a  crescent ;  and 
the  ground  thus  enclosed  was  waving  with  a  magnificent  wheat 
crop,  glowing  in  the  fair  June  morning.  On  the  right  was  an 
elevated  piece  of  ground — and  here  the  enemy  were  posted  in 
heavy  force. 

Their  long  lines  stretched,  dark  and  menacing,  across  the 
wheat  field ;  the  high  ground  on  their  left  was  crowned  with 
artillery ;  and  the  United  States  flag  rippled  proudly  in  the  breeze. 

The  banner  of  the  Stonewall  Brigade — the  Virgin  of  Virginia — 
advanced  defiantly  to  meet  it,  and,  with  a  roar  like  thunder  from 
the  opposing  batteries,  the  battle  began. 

The  advantage  derived  by  the  enemy  from  the  commanding 
position  on  their  left  now  became  fatally  obvious.  The  ranks 
of  the  Stonewall  Brigade  were  torn  by  a  deadly  fire  of  shell  and 
canister;  and,  taking  advantage  of  this  circumstance,  the  Fed- 
eral right  and  centre  rushed  forward,  charged  the  Southern 
artillery,  and,  pouring  a  destructive  fire  into  the  infantry,  forced 
both  to  fall  back  in  disorder. 

The  action  seemed  about  to  be  decided  at  a  blow.  The  Federal 
infantry,  dark  against  the  golden  wheat,  was  pouring  on  in  one 
continuous  stream,  firing  as  it  came ;  and  our  artillery  went  off 
at  a  gallop  to  escape  capture. 

"Bad,  very  bad!"  came  curtly  from  Jackson,  as  he  hurried  to 
the  spot.  "  Major,  tell  General  Ewell  to  hurry  up ;  no  time  is 
to  be  lost." 

I  found  General  Ewell  approaching  with  his  column,  and  de- 
livered the  message.  Jackson's  order  was  promptly  responded 
to.  Two  Virginia  regiments  were  advanced  at  a  double-quick : 
Jackson  placed  himself  at  their  head  and  galloped  forward :  theD 
came  the  long  roar  of  musketry,  as  they  suddenly  fell  with  fury 
on  the  flank  of  the  triumphant  enemy. 

Their  advance  was  instantly  checked,  but  the  heavy  batterie9 
upon  the  right  still  raked  the  field  with  a  fire  so  destructive  that 
no  troops  could  sustain  it.     The  shell,  round  shot,  canister,  and 


230  SURRY    OF    EAGLE'S-NEST. 

grape  tore  the  ranks  to  pieces,  and  it  was  obvious  that,  as  long 
as  those  guns  held  their  position,  nothing  could  be  effected. 

The  Federal  infantry,  for  a  moment  checked,  now  re-formed 
their  line,  and  were  evidently  preparing  for  a  more  determined 
charge.     Soon  it  came. 

The  batteries  on  the  high  ground  redoubled  their  thunders ; 
the  plain  was  swept  as  by  a  hurricane — and  then  the  Federal 
flag  was  seen  pointing  forward,  its  folds  rippling  as  it  came, 
and  beneath  it  the  long  line  rushed  on,  with  shouts  and  volleys 
which  seemed  to  shake  the  ground. 

So  determined  was  this  charge  that  the  Southern  lines  gave 
back  before  it — the  enemy  rushed  on — the  battle  seemed  lost. 

I  was  by  General  Jackson's  side  at  this  moment,  and  never 
shall  forget  the  stern,  immovable  resolution  of  his  iron  face. 
The  heavy  jaws  were  locked  together ;  the  cheeks  flushed ;  from 
the  keen  eyes  lightning  seemed  to  dart. 

"  Those  batteries  must  be  silenced,"  he  said,  briefly,  to  Ewell, 
who  was  by  his  side. 

At  that  moment  General  Taylor  rode  hastily  up. 

"  General,"  said  Jackson,  in  the  briefest  of  tones,  "  can  you 
take  that  battery?" 

"I  think  I  can,  sir,"  was  Taylor's  cheerful  response. 

"  It  must  be  taken,  or  the  day  is  lost."* 

A  chivalric  flash  darted  from  Taylor's  eyes,  and,  wheeling  his 
horse,  he  galloped  to  his  command,  which  had  just  formed  line 
of  battle  on  the  right,  near  the  ground  where  Jackson  stood. 

Taylor's  sword  flashed  out,  he  rose  in  his  stirrups,  and,  pointing 
with  the  weapon  toward  the  Federal  artillery,  he  called  out,  in 
his  ringing  voice : 

» 

"  Louisianians !  can  you  take  those  guns  ?"  * 

A  wild  cheer  rose  from  the  brigade  for  sole  reply. 

"Forward,  then!"  was  Taylor's  sonorous  order.  "Charge 
the  battery,  and  take  it  !"* 

Ilii  line  swept  forward  at  the  word,  on  fire  with  enthusiasm, 
and,  rushing  through  the  tangled  undergrowth,  wa3  seen  the 

*  His  words. 


EXEUNT    OMNES.  231 

next  moment  rapidly  mounting  a  slope  beyond.  The  ranks  had 
been  broken  by  the  rough  ground  over  which  they  had  advanced, 
but  Taylor  was  now  seen,  with  drawn  sword,  in  front  of  them — 
the  straggling  lines  re-formed,  in  close  order,  for  the  charge — and, 
steadily,  unmoved  by  the  heavy  fire  poured  upon  them  from  the 
Federal  batteries,  they  continued  to  advance. 

What  followed  could  be  plainly  seen  from  the  position  which 
we  occupied. 

Between  Taylor  and  the  Federal  guns  now  intervened  only  a 
skirt  of  woods  and  a  little  valley.  Beyond  this  valley  was  the 
crest,  flaming  like  a  crater. 

For  a  moment  the  gray  line  did  not  reappear  beyond  the 
skirt  of  woods.  Jackson's  face  filled  with  blood.  He  evidently 
feared  that  the  men  had  recoiled  in  face  of  the  certain  death 
which  awaited  a  charge  upon  this  volcano. 

All  at  once,  a  ringing  shout  was  heard  from  the  woods ;  the 
Federal  artillery  directed  upon  the  point  a  rapid  and  deadly  fire 
— then  Taylor's  line  was  seen  to  emerge  from  cover  and  rush 
down  the  hill. 

The  next  moment  it  began  to  ascend  the  opposite  slope, 
straight  upon  the  muzzles  of  the  Federal  guns.  The  fire  which 
greeted  the  charge  was  frightful.  The  guns  were  discharged 
so  rapidly  that  the  sound  resembled  volleys  of  artillery  ;  and 
directly  in  the  faces  of  the  men  was  launched  a  tempest  of 
grape,  canister,  and  shell. 

The  spectacle  was  sublime  ;  not  for  an  instant  did  they  recoil. 
The  lines  were  literally  hurled  back  as  the  iron  storm  swept 
through  them,  mangling  and  tearing  men  to  pieces — but  the 
ranks  closed  up  again ;  the  shouts  of  the  Louisianians  rang, 
clear  and  defiant,  above  the  roar ;  and  then  they  were  seen  to 
dash  upon  the  guns,  and  strike  their  bayonets  into  the  flying 
cannoneers. 

Taylor  had  taken  the  Federal  guns  whose  fire  was  so  destruc- 
tive, but  he  was  not  to  hold  them  without  a  terrible  struggle. 

The  enemy  immediately  concentrated  a  heavy  infantry  force 
in  his  front — charged  him  with  desperation — and  retook  the 
pieces  at  the  point  of  the  bayonet. 


232  SURRY    OF    EAGLE'S-NEST. 

Taylor  fell  back — his  men  fighting  desperately  ;  but  suddenly 
the  retrograde  ceased,  the  opposing  lines  grappled  almost  in  a 
breast-to-breast  struggle ;  then,  with  echoing  cheers,  the  Louisi- 
anians  again  rushed  forward,  and  recaptured  the  pieces. 

Three  times  they  were  lost  and  won,  in  this  desperate  struggle ; 
but,  at  last,  Taylor  drove  back  the  line  in  his  front  sufficiently 
far  to  bring  off  the  pieces.  Then  he  drew  up  his  shattered  com- 
mand to  sustain  the  final  assault  upon  it. 

But  his  determined  attack  had  changed  the  whole  face  of 
affairs.  The  enemy  had  been  compelled  to  re-enforce  their  left 
by  withdrawing  troops  from  their  centre  and  right,  which  had 
pressed  so  hard  on  Jackson ;  and  this,  in  turn,  enabled  Jackson 
to  move  his  forces  from  the  left  to  the  right. 

Taylor  thus  found  himself  fully  re-enforced ;  his  men  held 
their  ground  with  new  resolution  ;  and  the  opposing  lines  rushed 
together  in  a  mortal  struggle. 

It  was  soon  decided.  Attacked  in  front  by  Jackson's  infantry, 
and  subjected  to  a  heavy  fire  from  his  batteries  on  the  left,  the 
Federal  lines  began  obviously  to  waver.  The  musketry  fire  re- 
doubled ;  the  Southern  lines  rushed  forward  with  cheers ;  and, 
giving  way  in  disorder,  the  enemy  retired  in  confusion  from  tho 
field. 

They  were  followed  with  a  heavy  fire — pursued  for  miles — • 
and,  when  the  infantry  were  too  weary  to  go  further,  the  cavalry 
took  up  the  pursuit. 

At  this  moment  a  new  actor  appeared  upon  the  scene. 

Suddenly,  a  furious  roar  came  from  the  western  bank  of  the 
Shenandoah,  opposite  Port  Republic — and  General  Fremont's 
forces  appeared  upon  the  elevated  ground,  and  his  artillery 
opened  fire  upon  the  parties  engaged  in  burying  the  Federal  and 
the  Confederate  dead. 

It  was  too  late — Shields  was  defeated,  and  Fremont  could  not 
cross.  Jackson  had  ordered  the  force  in  his  front  near  Cross 
Keys  to  fall  back  and  burn  the  bridge — this  had  been  done — and 
now  General  Fremont  was  subjected  to  the  mortification  of  see- 
ing his  brother  general  crushed  before  his  eyes,  without  the 
power  of  coming  to  his  assistance. 


TAKEN    TO    TASK.  233 

I  have  always  considered  this  the  most  "dramatic"  scene,  as 
the  French  say,  of  the  war  : 

General  Shields  flying  in  disorder,  hotly  pursued ;  General 
FremoDt  gnashing  his  teeth  upon  the  opposite  bank  of  the  river ; 
and  Jackson  looking  calmly  on,  with  the  grim  smile  of  the 
victor. 

On  the  next  day,  General  Fremont  retreated  down  the  Valley, 
and  Jackson  remained  undisputed  master  of  the  country. 


LXYI. 

IN  WHICH   THE  WRITER   OF   THESE    MEMOIRS    IS    TAKEN 

TO    TASK. 

After  writing  the  preceding  chapter,  my  dear  reader,  I  rose, 
walked  to  the  window,  and,  looking  out  upon  the  tranquil  Rap- 
pahannock, so  vividly  in  contrast  with  the  hurrying  scenes  I  had 
been  describing,  muttered  :  "  It  appears  to  me  that  my  memoirs 
are  becoming  a  pure  and  simple  history  of  the  war  in  Virginia." 

Now,  worthy  reader,  however  noble  and  dignified  the  Muse 
of  History  may  appear  in  her  stately  robes,  I  have  always  had 
a  preference  for  the  gay  little  Muse  of  Comedy,  with  her 
caprices,  witcheries,  and  "wanton  wiles."  She  is  not  half  so 
solemn  and  imposing  as  her  grave  sister,  but  she  is  more  interest- 
ing. If  anybody  laughs  or  cries,  she  finds  it  out,  and  tells  you 
all  about  it — nay,  she  cries  herself  with  the  disconsolate  ones, 
and  laughs  with  the  mirthful.  There  is  not  a  smile  or  a  tear 
that  she  will  not  share — she  is  the  Muse,  not  of  History,  but 
simply  of  Comedy,  you  see. 

She  had  been  tugging  at  my  skirts  all  this  time,  while  I  have 
been  relating  the  events  of  the  Valley  campaign,  and  whisper- 
ing in  my  ear,  "  I  am  growing  tired  of  all  these  great  generals 
and  bloody  battles.  I  wish  to  hear  about  some  other  personages 
whom  you  have  introduced  to  me.  There  is  Captain  Mordaunt, 
that  mysterious  personage ;  and  May  Beverley,  and  Violet  Graf- 
ton, and  others.     Where  is  Stuart,  the  peerless  cavalier,  Sweeny, 


234  SURRY    OF    EAGLE'S-NEST. 

the  banjo-player,  Hagan,  the  giant  corporal,  and  all  the  rest? 
What's  become  of  Fenwick,  tbe  serpent,  and  his  cheerful  com- 
panion, Mrs.  Parkins?  Has  Captain  Baskerville  been  wounded 
in  any  action,  and  what  of  Will  Surry,  of  the  United  States 
Army  ?  Ar«s  all  these  personages  to  be  sacrificed  upon  the 
remorseless  altars  of  History — are  we  to  have  nothing  but  bat- 
tles, battles,  battles  ?" 

Pardon,  gentle  muse,  for  the  infliction.  True,  battles  become 
weariness.  Carnage  bores  at  last;  death  becomes  the  normal 
condition  of  things,  and  ceases  to  interest.  But  it  was  the 
great  figure  of  Ashby  that  enthralled  me.  Watching  the  flash 
of  his  bright  sabre  in  the  charge,  or  talking  with  him  by  the 
camp-fire  after  the  hard-fought  day,  I  forgot  all  else,  and  could 
see,  in  all  the  world,  that  noble  figure  only.  Hereafter,  I  shall 
leave  to  the  historian  the  detailed  narration  of  great  battles. 
When  they  cross  my  path  they  shall  not  detain  me  long,  gentle 
muse ! 


LXVII. 

LEE     STEIKES. 

The  campaign  of  the  Valley  ended  on  the  9th  of  June.  On 
the  26th,  Jackson  was  at  Ashland,  within  sixteen  miles  of  Rich- 
mond, rapidly  advancing  to  throw  his  veteran  corps  against  the 
right  flank  of  General  McClellan. 

I  am  not  going  to  describe  at  length,  my  dear  reader,  the 
great  struggle  which  soon  took  place  on  the  swampy  banks  of 
the  Chickahominy.  See  the  histories.  They  are  detailed,  im- 
partial, and  strictly  reliable.  There  you  will  discover  that  both 
sides  whipped  ;  that  General  McClellan  was  utterly  defeated, 
and  yet  only  "  changed  his  base ;"  that  the  great  campaign 
against  Richmond  was  ended  at  a  blow,  and  yet  that  the  Federal 
army  secured  a  better  position  for  more  decisive  operations. 

All  this  and  more  you  will  learn  from  the  histories,  which 
never  fib.     I  am  only  going  to  record  a  few  incidents. 


LEE    STRIKES.  235 

Jackson  received  at  Ashland  a  note  from  General  Stuart,  ad- 
dressed, "  General  T.  J.  Jackson,  somewhere,"  and  his  corps  con- 
tinued its  advance — now  preceded  hy  the  cavalry — reaching  the 
vicinity  of  Old  Cold  Harbor  House  on  the  afternoon  of  the  27th, 
just  as  A.  P.  Hill  recoiled  from  McOlellan's  almost  impregnable 
position. 

Immediately  the  veteran  legions  of  the  Valley  were  thrown 
forward,  and  the  woods  reverberated. 

Jackson  was  riding  about  on  an  old  gaunt  bay,  peering  out 
from  beneath  his  cap,  drawn  down  upon  his  forehead,  and  suck- 
ing a  lemon.     Calling  a  staff  officer  to  him,  he  said  : 

"  Major,  ride  to  General  Lee,  present  my  compliments,  and 
eay  that  I  have  closed  in  on  the  front  and  rear  of  the  enemy, 
and  am  pressing  forward."* 

At  this  moment,  Stuart — now  brigadier-general — rode  up, 
and  a  warm  greeting  took  place  between  the  two  commanders. 
The  blue  eyes  of  the  great  cavalier  flashed — in  his  ruddy, 
heavily  bearded  face  was  the  joy  of  the  coming  conflict. 

"Well,  General,"  he  said,  "you  are  attacking?" 

"Yes." 

"  My  command  is  ready  to  cut  them  off  if  they  attempt  to 
retreat  toward  Old  Church.  I  have  told  the  men  to  get  ready 
for  tough  work." 

"  Good.    What  gun  is  that,  General,  so  hotly  engaged  in  front  ?" 

"  One  of  Captain  Pelham's  Napoleons ;  he  is  a  splendid  young 
fellow,  and  is  fighting  like  a  tiger!" 

"Yes!     There  is  one  of  my  batteries  about  to  relieve  him." 

At  the  next  moment  a  young  officer,  slender,  beardless, 
modest-looking,  and  covered  with  dust,  came  from  the  front. 
His  blue  eyes  flashed,  his  firm  lips  gave  evidence  of  an  uncon- 
querable spirit. 

"This  is  Captain  Pelham,  General,"  said  Stuart;  "he  has 
fought  with  one  gun  that  whole  battalion  on  the  hill,  at  point- 
blank  range,  for  nearly  an  hour." 

Jackson  held  out  his  hand,  and  the  young  artillerist  took  it 
with  a  low  bow,  blushing  as  he  did  so,  like  a  girl.t 

*  His  words.  t  Historic*!. 


236  SURRY    OF   EAGLE'S-NEST. 

The  battle  had  now  begun  to  rage  with  fury,  and,  as  Jackson 
rode  to  and  fro,  in  the  great  field  by  the  Old  Cold  Harbor 
House,  courier  after  courier  came  and  went,  bringing  him  in- 
telligence. His  calm  expression  had  not  left  him;  but  under 
his  cap  rim  the  dark  eyes  blazed. 

A  staff-officer  galloped  up. 

"  General  Hood  directs  me  to  say,  General,  that  his  line  is 
enfiladed  by  a  battery  of  thirty-pound  Parrotts,  which  are 
decimating  his  men,  and  making  it  impossible  for  him  to. 
advance." 

Jackson  rose  in  his  stirrups  and  said : 

"  Give  my  compliments  to  General  nood,  and  tell  him  to  hold 
his  position.  I  will  silence  the  battery.  Mr.  Douglas,"  he  added, 
to  one  of  his  staff,  "  go  back  and  get  fifteen  or  eighteen  guns, 
attack  that  battery,  and  see  that  the  enemy's  guns  are  either 
silenced  or  destroyed."* 

In  twenty  minutes  a  tremendous  fire  was  opened  from  the 
left  upon  the  Federal  battery,  and  then  Hood's  men  were  seen 
to  rush  forward,  charging,  with  loud  cheers. 

At  this  stage  of  the  action,  I  was  sent  by  General  Jackson  with 
a  message  to  one  of  his  generals ;  and  only  mention  the  incident 
to  record  my  first  meeting  with  one  whom  I  afterward  knew 
well — a  very  brave  and  remarkable  person.  I  had  delivered  my 
message,  and  was  galloping  back,  when  I  saw  a  regiment  almost 
torn  to  pieces  by  the  horrible  fire  of  the  artillery  and  infantry 
on  the  crest  in  front.  This  fire  was  so  appalling  that  the  men 
could  not  endure  it,  and  were  seeking  everywhere  in  the  low, 
swampy  ground,  for  some  shelter  from  the  hurricane  of  canister 
which  swept  it. 

I  regarded  it  as  my  duty  to  attempt  to  rally  the  men,  knowing, 
as  I  did,  that,  if  the  line  was  broken  at  that  point,  Jackson's 
whole  position  would  be  seriously  endangered ;  and  I  accordingly 
endeavored  to  induce  the  stragglers  and  scattered  detachments 
to  rally  again  around  their  colors,  and  charge  the  artillery,  which 
was  flaming  in  front. 

*  His  words. 


LEE    STRIKES.  237 

This  is  one  of  the  most  disagreeable  portions  of  a  staff-officer's 
duty;  for  if  the  immediate  commanders  of  troops — their  cap- 
tains and  colonels — cannot  control  them,  it  is  still  more  difficult 
for  an  unknown  officer  to  do  so.  It  was,  nevertheless,  my  duty 
to  make  the  attempt,  and  I  did  so,  but  with  small  results.  The 
stragglers  paid  little  heed  to  me — every  one  was  "sick,"  or 
"wounded,"  or  in  equally  bad  plight.  In  plain  words,  the  fire 
was  so  deadly  that  they  were  unwilling  to  charge  in  face  of  it. 

Ill  success  had  put  me  in  something  like  a  rage,  as,  with  drawn 
sword,  I  galloped  up  to  a  man  separated  from  the  regiment,  and 
ordered  him,  in  a  hot  and  imperious  tone,  to  rejoin  his  com- 
mand. 

He  turned  and  looked  at  me  with  a  cool  air  of  surprise,  and, 
as  he  had  just  loaded  and  capped  a  peculiar  double-barrelled 
English  rifle  which  he  held  in  his  hand,  he  took  deliberate  aim 
at  a  Federal  officer,  visible  upon  a  hill  near,  and  fired. 

The  officer  fell,  and  as  the  personage  with  the  rifle  turned 
round  I  had  a  good  view  of  him. 

He  was  a  young  man,  apparently  about  twenty-five  or  six, 
lithe,  erect,  and  vigorously  knit.  He  wore  top-boots,  a  long 
blue  coat,  with  a  belt,  containing  a  pistol,  strapped  around  his 
waist ;  and  over  his  forehead  fell  a  brown  hat,  decorated  with  a 
black  feather.  His  face  was  handsome  and  intelligent ;  his  eyes 
dark  and  soft ;  his  complexion  sunburnt ;  and  his  mild-looking 
lips  were  surmounted  by  a  delicate  black  mustache. 

There  was  an  air  of  immovable  calmness  and  repose  about 
this  man,  even  at  the  instant  when  he  brought  down  his  enemy, 
which  was  very  striking. 

"  Did  you  speak  to  me  ?"  he  said,  in  a  courteous  voice,  very 
low-toned  and  mild. 

I  was  in  a  rage  at  my  ill  success  with  the  stragglers. 

"Yes!  Join  your  regiment  there!  Everyman  must  be  in 
his  place  !" 

"I  do  not  belong  to  that  regiment,"  he  said,  as  coolly  as  before. 

"  To  what,  then  ?" 

"lama  staff- officer,  sir — Captain  Farley,  of  General  Stuart's 
staff." 


238  SURRY    OF    EAGLE'S-NEST. 

I  saw  the  error  into  which  ray  haste  and  hot  blood  had  be- 
trayed me,  and  hastened  to  beg  Captain  Farley's  pardon. 

"No  harm  done,  Major,"  was  his  smiling  reply,  in  his  low, 
peculiar  voice.  "  I  suppose  you  are  trying  to  get  the  men  up — ■ 
but  you  cannot  do  it.  The  line  here  is  so  thin,  and  the  Yankees  in 
such  a  powerful  position  yonder,  that  nothing  can  be  done  with- 
out re-enforcements." 

I  saw  the  justice  of  these  words,  after  reconnoitring  tbe 
Federal  position. 

"  We  will  whip  them,"  said  Captain  Farley,  philosophically. 
"  I  went  in  with  that  regiment,  as  an  amateur,  the  cavalry  not 
being  engaged  ;  and  have  been  trying  to  blow  up  some  caissons, 
with  explosive  balls — but  have  had  no  luck.  I  have,  however, 
killed  three  officers." 

And  the  speaker  quietly  reloaded  his  empty  barrel  with  a 
peculiar-looking  cartridge,  which  he  took  from  a  fine  English 
satchel  made  for  the  missile.  lie  seemed  entirely  unconscious 
of  the  hail-storm  of  bullets  which  hissed  around  him,  cutting 
twigs  from  the  trees,  during  this  operation ;  and,  as  I  galloped 
off,  I  saw  him  again  taking  deliberate  aim  at  an  officer  waving 
his  sword  in  front  of  the  Federal  line  upon  the  hill  before  us.* 

In  consequence  of  the  intelligence  I  brought,  Jackson  immedi- 
ately moved  a  brigade  to  re-enforce  the  line  where  it  threatened 
to  give  way  ;  and  the  battle  raged  more  and  more  furiously. 

Half  an  hour  passed  ;  and  then  a  courier  from  General  D.  H. 
Hill  brought  a  dispatch,  saying  that  he  was  hard  pressed  and  re- 
quired re-enforcements. 

"  "Where  is  the  Stonewall  Brigade  ?"  asked  Jackson,  briefly. 

"Just  behind  that  hill,  General,"  replied  one  of  the  staff, 
pointing  to  a  wooded  acclivity. 

"  Order  it  to  advance  to  the  support  of  General  Hill." 

The  officer  galloped  off,  disappeared  in  the  woods,  and  very 
soon  the  long  line  of  glittering  bayonets  emerged  from  the  foli- 
age— the  red  battle-flag  in  front. 

Jackson's  eyes  flashed. 

*  Historical, 


LEE    STRIKES.  239 

"  Good!"  he  said;  "we  will  have  good  news  in  a  few  minutes 
now!"* 

The  Stonewall  Brigade  rapidly  crossed  the  wide  field,  plunged 
into  the  woods,  and  then  was  heard  the  long,  steady,  continuous 
roll  of  the  musketry,  as  they  came  to  the  support  of  Hill. 

From  that  moment,  the  battle  was  a  mortal  struggle — on  the 
enemy's  part,  to  defend  the  bristling  crest,  frowning  with  triple 
lines  of  breastworks ;  and  on  the  part  of  the  Southerners,  to 
storm  and  carry  the  works  with  the  bayonet.  The  sun  slowly 
sank  amid  a  haze  of  smoke,  dust,  and,  you  would  have  said,  of 
blood,  so  fiery  was  its  drapery  of  cloud. 

Jackson  was  talking  with  Stuart,  his  eyes  glaring  now,  and 
sucking  his  lemon,  when  a  staff-officer  galloped  up  and  said  : 

"  General  Ewell  directs  me  to  say,  sir,  that  the  enemy  do  not 
give  way  in  his  front." 

Jackson  rose  in  his  stirrups  until  his  form  was  as  stiff  and 

erect  as  an  arrow.     His  eyes  blazed — his  teeth  were   ground 

together.     Stretching  out  his  hand   containing   the   lemon,  he 

6aid: 

"  Tell  General  Ewell,  if  they  stand  at  sunset,  to  press  them  with 

the  bayonet!"* 

General  Stuart  exclaimed : 

"  The  officer  may  be  shot! — send  another,  too,  General." 

"Right!"  said  Jackson;  and,  turning  to  one  of  his  couriers, 
he  said : 

"Pirn  go!" 

Major  Pendleton,  his  adjutant-general,  that  young  officer  of  a 
courage  so  splendid,  volunteered  to  carry  the  message  ;  and  soon 
the  roar  of  guns  redoubled  in  front ;  then  tumultuous  cheers 
were  heard,  as  the  Southern  line  charged. 

Just  as  the  sun  sank,  Jackson's  whole  line — Hood's  Texans 
before  the  rest — swept  forward  in  one  wild  bayonet  charge ; 
and,  from  the  fury  of  the  shouts,  and  the  long  crash  of  the 
musketry,  it  was  plain  that  the  decisive  assault  was  being  made. 

In  a  few  moments,  that  electric  shout  which  indicates  success 
rose  from  the  wroods,  and  made  the  pukes  leap. 

*  llis  words. 


240  SURRY    OF   EAGLE'S-NEST. 

The  Southern  troops  had  charged  the  crest,  flaming  like  a  vol- 
cano, upon  which  the  enemy  were  posted — swept  them  from  it 
with  the  hayonet — and  terminated  the  struggle. 

It  was  like  the  conflict  between  the  Titans  and  the  gods  of  old 
mythology — but  the  Titans  stormed  and  took  the  heights  from 
which  their  opponents  hurled  the  thunderbolts. 

As  the  sun  disappeared,  McClellan's  forces  were  in  full  retreat, 
pursued  by  the  Southern  troops. 

Jackson  was  riding  in  and  out  between  the  guns,  still  pouring 
a  steady  fire — and  the  glare  of  the  burning  woods  lit  up  his 
flashing  eyes  as  he  conversed  with  Stuart. 

McClellan  was  thus  defeated,  and  in  full  retreat  toward  James 
River.  Jackson's  corps  held  the  front  in  the  pursuit,  and  had 
a  haid  fight  at  the  bridge  in  White  Oak  Swamp. 

Then  came  the  desperate  struggle  of  Malvern  Hill,  which  was 
a  bad  affair  for  us.  The  Federal  commander  massed  his  artillery, 
held  his  ground  until  night,  aud  then  retreated  to  Harrison's 
Landing,  under  cover  of  his  gunboats. 

"  Now  is  the  time,"  exclaimed  Jackson,  "  for  an  advance  into 
Pennsylvania!     The  Scipio  Africanus  policy  is  the  best!"* 

No  such  advance  was  made.  Jackson's  supreme  military  in- 
stinct told  him  that  General  McOlellan  was  paralyzed — but  the 
authorities  at  Richmond  doubted.  Thus  the  golden  moment 
passed.  Soon  intelligence  came  that  another  Federal  army  was 
rapidly  assembling  north  of  the  Rappahannock. 

No  new  advance  upon  Richmond,  however,  was  intended — 
that  army  was  to  protect  Washington.  The  Federal  authorities 
agreed  with  Jackson.  They  knew  that  the  Army  of  Northern 
Virginia  ought  to  advance,  and  they  acted  upon  the  sound  mili- 
tary maxim,  always  to  give  an  enemy  credit  for  intending  to  do 
what  he  ought  to  do. 

But  the  hour  of  destiny  had  passed — the  opportunity  slipped 
away.  Who  counselled  this  inaction  ?  It  is  impossible  that  it 
was  General  Lee,  for  one  day  after  Malvern  Hill,  Jackson  said 
to  an  officer : 

*  His  words. 


5 


S 


4 

CO 

1 


LEE   STRIKES.  241 

*4 1  hoar  that  some  persons  say  General  Lee  is  slow.  He  is  not 
•low.  I  have  known  him  for  five  and  twenty  years,  and  he  is 
the  only  man  I  would  follow  blindfold  !"* 

It  was  on  the  field  of  Cold  Harbor  that  I  first  saw  General 
Robert  E.  Lee ;  and  I  have  never  seen  a  nobler  type  of  manhood 
than  this  bravo  old  cavalier — then  known  to  very  few — now  one 
of  the  immortals. 

Here  is  his  outline : 

Fancy,  my  dear  reader,  a  man  apparently  about  fifty  years  of 
age ;  tall  in  stature,  erect  as  an  arrow,  and  with  a  certain  air  of 
simplicity  and  grandeur  in  every  movement  of  his  person.  His 
hair  was  gray,  like  his  beard  and  mustache';  his  eye  clear,  pene- 
trating, benignant,  and  yet  full  of  that  latent  fire  which  betray3 
a  powerful  organization.  His  uniform  was  plain,  and  somewhat 
faded — the  riding  cape,  upon  his  shoulders,  evidently  an  old 
friend — and  his  brown  felt  hat  was  wholly  without  decoration. 
But  it  was  impossible  to  mistake  the  general.  His  calm  and 
collected  air ;  his  grave  and  measured  courtesy  without  abandon; 
his  perfect  seat  in  the  saddle,  for  he  had  been  a  cavalry  officer — 
all  pointed  out  the  commander-in-chief.  I  have  seen  the  noblest 
figures  of  the  war,  but  none  can  be  compared  to  that  of  our  old 
captain.  In  every  movement  of  his  person,  every  tone  of  his 
voice,  every  glance  of  his  honest  eye,  was  the  perfect  grace,  the 
sweet  and  yet  stately  courtesy  of  the  old  Virginia  gentleman. 
Health,  happiness,  and  length  of  days  to  our  old  hero !  His  glory 
is  beyond  the  reach  of  hostile  hands;  and  to-day,  ten  thousand 
and  ten  thousand,  who  would  have  died  with  him,  take  off  their 
hats  and  salute  him  as  the  flower  of  truth  and  honor  I 

*  Hl»  ■Word*. 
11 


242  SURRY    OF    EAGLE'S-NEST. 

LXYIII. 

PAST    THE    RAPIDAN. 

Jackson's  corps  bad  decided  the  fate  of  the  day  at  Oold 
Harbor,  as  his  brigade  had  turned  the  tide  at  Manassas.  "When 
he  arrived,  A.  P.  Hill  was  retiring,  torn  and  bleeding — Longstreet 
unable  to  advance.  The  flank  attack  of  the  Valley-men  decided 
all. 

These  veteran  troops  were  now  to  bear  the  brunt  of  battle 
against  a  new  adversary. 

Leaving  the  hot  woods  of  Charles  City,  they  took  up  the  line 
of  inarch  toward  the  Rapidan ;  and  soon  the  long  blue  wave  of 
the  Ridge  gladdened  their  eyes. 

Jackson  advanced  without  pausing,  and,  on  the  9th  of  August, 
attacked  and  defeated  General  Pope  at  Cedar  Mountain. 

We  had  heard  the  most  glowing  accounts  of  this  commander — 
how  he  had  arrived  at  his  head-quarters  in  a  special  car,  decked 
out  with  flags  and  streamers — how  he  had  penned  an  order,  pro- 
mising his  army  that  he  would  never  retreat,  or  seek  that  "  rear  " 
where,  he  said,  "  lurked  shame  and  disaster,'1*  and  how  he  had 
declared  that  hitherto  he  had  "  seen  only  the  backs  of  his  ene- 
mies." 

In  the  midst  of  the  wild  plunder  of  the  inhabitants  which  he 
permitted,  he  suddenly  met  Jackson  face  to  face,  on  the  slopes 
of  Culpepper. 

Cedar  Mountain  was  a  hard  fight,  and  a  vigorous  charge  drove 
our  left  wing  back  in  disorder.  But  Jackson  placed  himself  at 
the  head  of  the  men — a  great  shout,  "  Stonewall  Jackson !  Stone- 
wall Jackson!"  rose — and  the  enemy  were  swept  back.  Then 
Ewell  closed  in  on  the  right ;  the  whole  Southern  line  advanced 
with  cheers;  and  the  forces  of  Pope  gave  way,  and  rapidly  re- 
treated, pursued  by  their  adversaries. 

The  troops  slept  on  ground  in  advance  of  the  battle-field, 
under  the  brilliant  August  moon. 


•ol 


*  See  General  Pope's  order  on  taking  command. 


AN    ADVENTURE    OF    STUART'S.        243 

Jackson  had  fought  at  Cedar  Run  thirty-two  thousand  Federal 
troops,  with  less  than  half  that  number.  General  Pope  concen- 
trated his  whole  army  now  in  our  immediate  front,  and  Jackson 
fell  back. 

He  was  met  near  Orange  by  the  main  body  of  the  army  under 
General  Lee. 

"Forward!"  was  now  the  word;  and  all  was  soon  ready  for 
a  decisive  trial  of  strength  with  General  Pope. 


LXIX. 

AN    ADVENTURE    OF    STUART'S. 

If  the  reader  will  now  lose  sight  of  all  these  great  events — the 
mighty  stepping-stones  in  the  history  of  a  nation — and  consent 
to  fix  his  attention  upon  the  personal  movements  of  the  humble 
author  of  these  memoirs,  I  will  conduct  him  to  a  distance  from 
the  embattled  hosts  fast  gathering  on  the  banks  of  the  Rapidan, 
and,  descending  that  stream,  penetrate  with  him  the  wooded 
country  which  stretches  around  the  little  village  of  Verdiersville. 

I  was  the  bearer  of  a  message  from  General  Jackson  to  General 
Stuart,  then  concentrating  his  cavalry  on  the  right  flank  of  the 
army;  and  I  expected  to  find  the  commander  of  the  cavalry 
somewhere  in  the  vicinity  of  Verdiersviile. 

Good  fortune  attended  me.  I  had  scarcely  reached  the  point 
where  the  Richmond  or  Antioch  Church  road  debouches  into  the 
main  highway  below  Verdiersville,  when  I  heard  a  voice  in  the 
woods  trolling  lustily  a  camp-song,  of  which  the  jolly  burden 
was — 

"  If  you  want  to  have  a  good  time, 
Jine  the  cavalry ! 

Bully  boys,  hey  1" 

— and  in  a  few  moments  Stuart  appeared  at  the  edge  of  the  woods 
with  his  staff,  coming  from  the  south. 

I  have  outlined    Colonel  Jeb.  Stuart,  of  the  First  Virginia 


2M  SURRY    OF   EAGLE'S-NEST. 

Cavalry,  with  Ms  blue  blouse-coat  of  the  U.  S.  Army,  his  Zouave 
cap,  and  floating  "  havelock."  Let  me  now  give  some  idea  of 
Major-General  Jeb.  Stuart,  commanding  the  cavalry  of  General 
Lee's  army. 

Imagine  a  figure  stouter  and  more  athletic  than  before  ;  a  face 
fuller  and  ruddier,  and  decorated  with  a  longer  and  heavier  mus- 
tache and  beard  ;  an  eye  more  laughing,  and  a  voice  even  more 
ringing  and  sonorous.  This  figure  was  clad  in  a  gray  "  double- 
breasted  "  jacket,  worn  open,  with  the  edges  folded  back  and 
buttoned  on  each  side — the  sleeves  heavily  braided — and  with  a 
buff  collar  ornamented  with  three  stars  encircled  by  a  wreath. 
A  gray  waistcoat  reached  to  the  throat ;  top-boots  with  shining 
brass  spurs  extended  to  the  knees ;  and  over  the  high  forehead, 
with  its  clear  blue  eyes,  drooped  a  brown  felt  hat,  looped  up 
with  a  golden  star,  and  decorated  with  a  black  feather. 

At  the  side  of  this  martial  figure,  which  advanced  with  one 
leg  thrown  carelessly  over  the  pommel  of  the  saddle,  rattled  a 
light  French  sabre,  balanced  on  the  opposite  side  by  a  pistol  in  a 
black  holster ;  and,  as  he  came,  the  gay  chevalier  played  negli- 
gently with  one  of  his  long  buckskin  gauntlets,  keeping  time  to 
his  song. 

"  If  you  want  to  have  a  good  time 
Jine  the  cavalry I" 

rung  out  clear  and  joyous,  echoing  through  the  woods;  and  then 
the  quick  glance  of  Stuart — he  never  forgot  anybody — had 
evidently  recognized  me. 

"  Hey !"  was  his  laughing  exclamation  ;  "  here's  our  wandering 
cavalier !  How  are  you,  Surry,  and  how  did  you  leave  old  Stone- 
wall ?"* 

"  Perfectly  well,  General,  and  thirsting  for  the  blood  of 
Pope." 

The  next  moment  I  had  exchanged  a  grasp  of  the  hand  with 
the  General,  and  my  friends  on  the  staff — only  a  portion  of 
whom  were  present. 

"  Who  would  have  expected  to  find  you  at  this  out-of-the-way 
place?"   exclaimed  the  gay  commander.   "Some  of  these  days 

*  Stuart's  familiar  name  for  Jackson. 


AN    ADVENTURE    OF    STUART'S.         245 

you'll  be  ambushed  by  the  Yankee  cavalry,  and  then  good-by 
to  Surry!" 

"I  am  not  afraid.     What  news,  General?" 

"  None — do  you  bring  any  ?" 

"Only  a  message  from  General  Jackson."  And  I  delivered 
it. 

"  All  right,"  was  Stuart's  response.  "  I  had  thought  of  that, 
and  Fitz  Lee  is  ordered  to  this  point.  I  expect  him  to  arrive  to- 
night.    Is  the  army  moving  ?" 

"  It  will  advance  to-morrow." 

"Good! — the  cavalry  will  be  in  place!  And  now  come  on, 
and  tell  me  all  the  news.  You  can't  go  back  to-night.  That 
old  house  would  be  a  good  head-quarters," he  added,  pointing  to 
a  deserted  tenement  at  the  mouth  of  the  Antioch  road,  "  but  I 
believe  I  will  go  on  to  Verdiersville.     Come,  Surry!" 

And  resuming  his  sonorous  advice  to  "  Jine  the  cavalry !"  the 
General  rode  on,  with  the  staff  and  myself. 

Passing  the  little  skirt  of  pine-trees  where,  I  remember,  he 
afterward  had  his  quarters — al  fresco  and  tentless,  in  the  cold 
December  of  1863,  and  when  General  Lee,  riding  by,  said, 
"What  a  hardy  soldier!"  as  he  saw  Stuart  thus  bivouacking 
"  under  the  canopy,"  in  the  chill  nights — we  pushed  on,  and 
about  nightfall  reached  the  little  village  of  Verdiersville. 

"I  am  going  to  stop  here,"  said  Stuart,  drawing  rein  before  a 
small  deserted  house,  the  first  on  the  right  as  you  enter  the  vil- 
lage from  the  west.  "  I  ought  to  hear  from  Fitz  Lee  very  soon 
now." 

"  This  is  the  rendezvous  ?" 

"  Yes,  and  in  the  morning  I  shall  be  in  the  saddle,  ready 
to  advance — if  the  Yankees  don't  make  a  descent  and  capture  us 
to-night." 

"Have  they  any  force  in  this  vicinity?" 

"  Two  or  three  regiments.  They  are  scouting  along  the 
Rapidan  at  tins  moment,  and  may  take  a  fancy  to  prowl  in  this 
direction." 

"  And  you  have  no  force  near  ?" 

"  None  within  ten  miles." 


246  SURRY    OF   EAGLE'S-NEST. 

"My  dear  General,"  I  said,  laughing,  "don't  you  think  there 
is  some  danger  that  the  Confederacy  will  be  deprived  of  your 
valuable  services  ?" 

"  "Well,"  was  his  laughing  reply,  "we  can't  guard  against  all 
the  chances  of  war." 

"You  ought  at  least  to  have  a  picket  out." 

"  True,  but  I  have  only  one  or  two  couriers  with  me,  and  they 
are  as  tired  as  I  am." 

"  And  you  are  going  to  sleep  here,  without  even  a  vedette  ?" 

"  I'll  risk  it." 

And  lightly  throwing  himself  from  his  horse,  the  gay  cavalier 
led  him  into  the  small  yard  in  front  of  the  house,  threw  the 
bridle  over  the  palings,  and,  taking  from  his  satchel  some  ham 
and  biscuits,  invited  me  to  sup  with  him. 

The  staff  imitated  him ;  and  when  the  meal  was  finished 
Stuart  rose. 

"  It  is  singular  that  I  don't  hear  from  Fitz  Lee,"  he  said,  and, 
turning  to  Major  Fitzhugh  of  his  staff,  he  added: 

'Major,  I  wish  you  would  take  a  courier,  and  ride  back  to 
the  mouth  of  the  Richmond  road,  and  look  out  for  Fitz  Lee. 
Tell  him  to  move  on,  and  join  me  here  without  delay." 

The  Major  promptly  obeyed,  and  was  soon  out  of  sight, 
followed  by  the  courier.  We  were  not  to  see  him  again  for 
many  a  long  day. 

"  Come,  Surry,"  Stuart  then  said,  "  let  us  get  some  sleep.  I 
have  been  riding  all  day." 

And,  spreading  his  riding  cape  upon  the  little  porch  in  front 
of  the  house,  he  almost  instantly  fell  asleep.  I  wrapped  myself 
in  my  blanket,  and  lay  down  beside  him. 

At  dawn,  the  sound  of  steps  on  the  porch  woke  me, 
and,  rising,  I  saw  the  General  walking  bareheaded  toward  the 
gate. 

"  Strange  I  don't  hear  from  Fitz  Lee !"  he  said.  "  "What  can 
be  the  matter?" 

At  that  moment,  the  distant  tramp  of  cavalry  was  heard, 
approaching  from  the  direction  of  the  Richmond  road. 

"Ah!  here    he  is  at  last!"   exclaimed  the    General,  as   the 


AN    ADVENTURE    OF    STUART'S.        247 

head  of  the  columu  appeared  through  the  pines  beyond  the 
hill. 

Then,  as  he  turned,  Stuart  suddenly  looked  again  in  the  direc- 
tion of  the  column.  It  was  impossible  to  make  out  the  figures 
clearly,  but  some  instinct  seemed  to  warn  him  that  all  was  not 
right. 

"  Captain,"  he  said  to  an  officer  near,  "  ride  down  the  road 
and  see  what  that  column  is." 

The  officer  mounted,  and  spurred  toward  it. 

"  It  must  be  Fitz!"  muttered  Stuart,  "  and  yet"— 

At  that  moment  shots  were  heard  in  front.  The  officer  who 
had  ridden  in  the  direction  of  the  approaching  cavalry  came  back 
at  a  gallop,  pursued  by  a  detachment  in  blue  uniforms,  firing  at 
him  as  he  ran ;  and  the  mystery  was  solved. 

The  column  was  not  Confederate,  but  Federal  cavalry;  and 
in  an  instant  they  were  thundering  forward,  and  had  nearly 
reached  the  house. 

There  was  no  time  to  parley  or  to  hesitate.  The  pursuers  came 
on  with  loud  shouts  of  "Halt!  halt!"  and  in  an  instant  were 
opposite  the  house. 

I  got  hastily  into  the  saddle,  and  finding  all  egress  barred  by 
way  of  the  narrow  gate,  leaped  the  palings  just  as  Stuart  did 
likewise. 

He  had  not  had  time  to  get  his  hat  or  riding-cape.  I  am  not  sure 
even  that  his  horse  was  bridled,  and  believe  that  he  rode  only 
with  the  halter. 

At  all  events,  his  swift  bay  cleared  the  fence  in  gallant  style  ; 
and,  pursued  by  furious  orders  to  halt,  accompanied  with  a  shower 
of  bullets,  we  crossed  a  field,  and  reached  the  cover  of  the 
woods. 

"Quick  work!"  exclaimed  the  General,  his  face  fiery  hot. 
"  Just  look  at  the  rascals !" 

And,  turning  my  head,  I  saw  the  Federal  cavalry-men,  who 
had  only  pursued  the  General  and  his  staff  a  short  distance, 
raising  his  riding-cape  and  hat  upon  the  points  of  their  sabres, 
with  shouts  of  laughter  and  triumph. 

We  afterward  ascertained  that  Major  Fitzhugh  had  gone  as  far 


248  SURRY    OF   EAGLE'S-NEST. 

as  the  deserted  house  I  have  mentioned,  and,  after  waiting  for 
an  hour  or  two  for  General  Fitz  Lee,  had  lain  down  on  the 
floor  to  take  a  short  nap,  leaving  the  courier  posted  at  the  mouth 
of  the  road,  to  announce  the  General's  arrival.  Instead  of 
General  Fitz  Lee's  column,  it  was  that  of  a  Federal  colonel  com- 
manding a  brigade.  The  courier  was  captured ;  and  when  Major 
Fitzhugh,  hearing  the  tramp  of  horses  near  the  house,  rose  to 
go  and  meet  General  Fitz  Lee,  he  saw  some  blue-coats  leading 
off  his  fine  sorrel,  which  had  been  tied  to  a  limb.  Then  they 
rushed  in,  seized  him,  and,  after  a  struggle,  made  him  prisoner, 
conducting  him  to  the  colonel.  That  officer  acquired  no  infor- 
mation from  the  Major's  rough  replies ;  and,  directing  him  to  ride 
at  his  side  as  guide,  proceeded  toward  Verdiersville. 

The  reader  knows  what  followed.  Stuart  and  his  staff  retired 
with  more  rapidity  than  ceremony ;  and  the  Federal  colonel  said 
to  Major  Fitzhugh  : 

"  What  party  was  that  ?" 

The  Major  saw  that  his  general  had  escaped,  and  was  laugh- 
ing, overjoyed.  He  could  not  resist  the  temptation  of  making 
his  captor  "  feel  bad." 

"Did  you  ask  what  party  that  was  which  has  just  escaped, 
Colonel  ?"  said  the  Major. 

"I  did,  sir." 

"  Would  you  like  to  know  very  much  ?" 

"I  would." 

"  Well,  Colonel,  that  was  General  Stuart  and  his  staff." 

The  words  were  like  the  explosion  of  a  shell. 

"Stuart!  That  was  Stuart  ?  Here — a  squadron!  follow  that 
party,  and  kill  or  capture  them.     It  is  Stuart !" 

The  squadron  rushed  forward  on  the  track  of  the  fugitives,  and 
Stuart  saw  it  coming. 

"Pshaw  f'  he  said  coolly,  "they  won't  come  far.  But  let  us 
get  out  of  their  way,  Major." 

And  we  galloped  on.  A  few  shots  came,  and  we  were  pur- 
sued a  short  distance.  Then,  as  Stuart  predicted,  they  ceased 
following  us.  The  General  turned  his  horse,  and  rode  back 
toward  Verdiersville. 


THE    PURSUIT.  24* 

"  They  will  be  afraid  of  a  trap,  and  leave  the  place  at  once," 
he  said. 

The  event  showed  the  justice  of  this  surmise.  As  we  came  in 
sight  of  the  small  house  from  which  we  had  retired  so  precipi- 
tately, the  Federal  cavalry  was  seen  rapidly  moving  in  the  direc- 
tion of  the  Rapidan. 

"  They  have  got  my  hat  and  cape,"  growled  Stuart ;  "  but  I 
hope  to  get  even  with  them." 

And  we  re-entered  the  village.* 


LXX. 

THE   PURSUIT. 

We  had  scarcely  regained  the  house  from  which  we  had  been 
chased  with  so  little  ceremony,  when  a  courier  announced  that 
General  Fitz  Lee  was  approaching ;  and  very  soon  his  column 
appeared,  the  General  riding  in  front. 

"  General  Fitz,"  as  his  friends  called  him,  was  about  twenty- 
six,  of  low  stature,  and  with  a  stout  and  vigorous  person.  His 
faco  was  ruddy  and  laughing,  his  eye  bright,  penetrating,  and 
full  of  humor.  A  heavy  brown  mustache  and  beard  half  covered 
the  gay  and  insouciant  countenance.  He  wore  a  brown  felt  hat, 
looped  up  and  decorated  with  a  feather ;  a  gray  dress  coat,  and 
elegant  cavalry  boots,  against  which  rattled  his  long  sabre. 
"  General  Fitz  "  seemed  to  enjoy  the  profession  of  arms — to  like 
movement,  fun,  and  adventure — and  was  evidently  a  great  favor- 
ite with  Stuart,  who  was  soon  laughing  gayly  at  his  late  esca- 
pade. 

Not  a  moment,  however,  was  lost  in  following  the  Federal 
column.  Stuart,  who  had  borrowed  a  hat  from  one  of  his  men, 
took  command  in  person,  and  pushed  after  them  in  the  direction 
of  Locust  Grove. 

"  Gome,  Surry,"  he  said,  "  you  ought  to  be  present  when  I  have 
my  revenge." 

*  A  real  incident. 
11* 


250  SURRY  OF  EAGLE'S-NEST. 

"But  what  will  General  Jackson  say,  if  I  go  scouting  with  the 
cavalry  ?  He  will  think  that  your  adventurous  life  has  demoral- 
ized me." 

"Not  a  bit.  Come!  the  army  is  moving,  and  we  will  join  it 
sooner  "by  crossing  the  Rapidan  below." 

I  only  wanted  an  excuse  to  yield.  The  cavalry  had  "  demor- 
alized "  me.  After  their  gay  life,  so  full  of  romantic  scenes  and 
incidents,  the  infantry  seemed  tame. 

I  followed  the  General,  and  very  soon  we  came  upon  the  track 
of  the  retreating  brigade.  Stuart  now  pushed  on  rapidly,  and  an 
exciting  chase  commenced.  Straight  down  the  old  turnpike 
toward  Chancellorsville  swept  the  column,  following  the  fresh 
footprints  of  the  enemy's  horsemen;  and  soon  I  found  myself 
once  more  in  that  strange  country  of  the  "Wilderness,  where  was 
situated  the  house  at  which  I  had  spent  the  night  on  my  journey 
from  Richmond  to  report  to  Jackson,  in  April,  1861. 

All  at  once,  not  far  beyond  Locust  Grove,  rapid  shots  were 
heard  from  the  advance-guard,  which  had  pushed  some  distance 
ahead,  and  Stuart  went  at  a  swift  gallop  to  the  front.  s 

"Here  they  are!"  he  shouted,  and,  rising  in  the  stirrups,  he 
cried,  in  his  sonorous  voice,  as  clear  and  ringing  as  a  clarion : 

"Form  fours! — draw  sabre! — charge!" 

A  yell  rose  from  his  column  at  the  words ;  and  on  they  came, 
the  sabres  glittering  in  the  brilliant  sunshine. 

Then  followed,  my  dear  reader,  that  brief  but  animated 
spectacle,  called  a  cavalry  fight.  Only  the  enemy  did  not  make 
a  good,  obstinate  stand ;  they  seemed  to  aim  only  at  getting 
off. 

Bang!  slash! — bang!  bang!  bang!  And  we  were  among 
them,  cutting  right  and  left. 

They  did  not  stand  long.  In  five  minutes  they  were  running, 
followed  at  full  speed  by  the  yelling  Southerners. 

The  chase  continued  as  far  as  the  river;  and  the  Federal 
cavalry-men  scrambled  down  the  steep  hill  toward  the  ford. 

Stuart  was  about  to  follow,  when  a  long  dark  line  appear- 
ed on  the  high  ground  beyond ;  a  piece  of  artillery  "  counter- 
marched "  at  a  gallop ;    and  then  a  puff  of  white  smoke  was 


THE  PURSUIT.  251 

seen,  followed  by  the  shriek  of  a  shell,  which  fell  in  the  very 
centre  of  the  pursuing  column.  Another  came,  then  another ; 
and,  under  cover  of  their  artillery,  the  Federal  cavalry  crossed 
the  river. 

Stuart  ordered  a  halt,  and,  drawing  up  his  column  behind  a 
hill,  rode  forward  to  reconnoitre.  The  Federal  force  on  the 
opposite  bank  was  ascertained  to  amount  to  at  least  a  division 
of  cavalry ;  and  finding  that  an  assault  was  impracticable  with 
the  small  force  which  he  then  had,  Stuart  at  once  dispatched 
orders  to  his  main  body,  which  had  not  come  up,  to  move  on 
rapidly  and  join  him. 

"  When  they  arrive,"  said  the  General,  "  I  will  show  you, 
Surry,  what  my  men  can  do  in  the  way  of  charging  across  a 
river  in  the  face  of  sharpshooters  and  artillery.  I  don't  intend 
to  let  those  fellows  stop  me.     '  Do  or  die  '  is  my  motto." 

And  the  General  threw  himself  at  full  length  under  a  tree, 
with  no  trace  of  ill-humor  at  his  morning's  adventure.  From 
the  bright  surface  of  his  splendid  nature  the  breath  of  anger 
quickly  passed. 

The  long  chase  and  the  time  lost  at  the  river  had  consumed 
the  day,  and  the  sun  now  began  to  decline.  Stuart  had  given 
up  all  idea  of  attacking  until  the  next  morning ;  and,  seeing  that 
we  were  to  be  detained  in  our  present  quarters  all  night,  my 
thoughts  persistently  reverted  to  the  fact  that  I  was  but  a  few 
miles  distant  from  that  mysterious  mansion  in  connection  with 
which  I  had  so  many  curious  recollections. 

Were  you  ever  haunted  by  one  possessing  thought,  reader — so 
that  no  effort  could  banish  it?  In  vain  did  I  endeavor  to  fix  my 
mind  upon  the  events  of  the  day — the  chances  of  the  coming 
campaign — the  probable  result  of  the  fight  on  the  morrow. 
Still  came  back  to  my  mind  the  obscure  mansion  where  I  had 
met  with  such  strange  adventures.  Who  lived  there  now?  Not 
Violet  Grafton,  nor  the  poor  White  Lady,  who  was  sleeping 
under  the  turf  of  Manassas.  She  would  never  await  the  coming 
of  her  "  darling  "  any  more,  as  on  that  night  of  my  arrival. 
And  the  queenly  girl  who  had  loved  and  cherished  her  so  tender- 
ly was  out    of   the   clutches    of    Fenwick   and  the   harridan, 


252  SURRY    OF   EAGLE'S-NEST. 

evidently  his  accomplice — beyond  their  reach,  amid  friends  who 
would  watch  over  her. 

But  was  the  house  in  the  "Wilderness  then  deserted  ?  Had  the 
human  owls  and  night-hawks  left  the  obscure  nest  and  flown  to 
some  other  region?  "Where  was  Fenwick,  the  secret  foe,  spy, 
plotter,  and  villain  generally  ?  "Would  a  visit  to  that  house  and 
a  conversation  with  its  possible  inmates  furnish  any  clue  to  his 
whereabouts  ? 

These  thoughts  incessantly  recurred  to  my  mind,  and  at  last 
the  temptation  to  go  and  satisfy  myself  by  a  personal  "  recon- 
noissance  "  became  irresistible.  I  determined  to  take  advantage 
of  the  opportunity  thus  thrown  in  my  way  to  revisit  the  place  ; 
and  availing  myself  of  a  moment  when  General  Stuart's  atten- 
tion was  engaged — for  I  wished  to  avoid  explanations — I  mount- 
ed my  horse,  and  quietly  took  a  road  which  I  was  tolerably  sure 
led  in  the  direction  of  the  mansion. 

I  soon  found  myself  lost  in  the  dense  and  lugubrious  thicket, 
but  from  time  to  time  noticed  some  traces  of  my  former  route 
— then  I  came  to  the  road  which  I  had  followed  in  April, 
1861. 

The  way  was  now  plain.  The  house  I  knew  was  not  a  mile 
distant,  and  I  pushed  on  over  the  winding  road,  between  the 
impenetrable  walls  of  thicket,  vocal  now,  as  before,  with  the 
melancholy  cries  of  the  whippoorwill.  Ere  long  I  saw  the 
opening  which  I  had  expected ;  and,  as  the  last  rays  of  the  sun 
disappeared,  and  darkness  slowly  descended,  came  in  sight  of 
the  obscure  mansion  on  the  pine-encircled  knoll. 

This  time  I  tied  my  horse  to  the  thicket  near  the  brushwood 
fence,  and  ascended  the  hill  on  foot,  making  no  sound  as  I  did 
so. 


THE    HOUSE    IN    THE    WILDERNESS.   253 

LXXI. 

THE    HOUSE   IN    THE  WILDERNESS,  AND  ITS   OCCUPANTS. 

The  place  seemed  entirely  deserted,  and  had  about  it  an  inex- 
pressible air  of  desolation.  The  gloomy-looking  mansion  posi- 
tively oppressed  my  spirits  as  I  drew  near,  and — alone  thus 
in  the  mysterious  depths  of  this  melancholy  Wilderness — I  look- 
ed around  suspiciously,  tried  the  lock  of  my  pistol,  and  pre- 
pared to  defend  myself  against  any  foe  who  appeared. 

Why  is  it  that  some  houses,  and  even  regions  of  country,  thus 
affect  us?  There  are  mansions  which  seem  to  smile  and  wel- 
come us — where  sunshine  reigns,  and  all  is  bright  and  joyous. 
Others  appear  to  frown  and  receive  yon  with  averted  glances — 
to  bring  up  thoughts  of  dark  and  mysterious  tragedies — of  blood 
and  murder.  "  Some  hideous  crime  must  have  been  committed 
here!"  you  murmur,  as  you  look  upon  the  sullen  walls;  you 
feel  that  God  has  cursed  the  roof-tree,  and  set  his  seal  upon  the 
place.  So  with  certain  regions :  they  scowl  at  you,  and  op- 
press the  heart — and  such  was  this  melancholy  Wilderness,  in 
which  was  lost,  like  a  leaf,  this  gloomy  and  apparently  deserted 
house. 

All  at  once,  however,  as  I  approached,  I  saw  a  light  glimmer 
through  the  closed  shutters,  and  stopped.  Something  told  me 
that  the  place  was  no  longer  occupied  by  hospitable  women,  but 
by  enemies,  whom  it  was  necessary  to  approach  with  caution. 

I  carefully  secured  my  sabre  in  my  left  hand,  so  that  the  wea- 
pon could  not  clatter  against  the  ground,  and,  silently  approach- 
ing the  house,  looked  through  a  chink  in  the  closed  shutter,  into 
the  apartment  from  which  proceeded  the  light. 

Here  is  what  I  beheld  in  the  apartment — the  same  in  which  I 
had  held  my  interview  with  Miss  Grafton  and  the  White 
Lady: 

Seated  at  the  table,  half  turned  from  me,  was  the  woman 
Parkins,  in  conversation  with  no  less  a  personage  than  Fenwick. 
I  saw  before  me  the  same  grim  face  and  lowering  brow.     She 


254  SURRY  OF    EAGLE'S-NEST. 

was  unchanged.  The  eyes,  cold,  wary,  and  forbiddiog,  were 
intently  fixed  upon  her  companion. 

From  the  woman,  my  glance  passed  to  Fenwick.  He  was  the 
same  lithe,  muscular,  and  vigorous  figure  as  before ;  and  his 
countenance,  in  which  the  dark  eyes  scowled  disagreeably,  wore 
the  same  sneering  expression.  The  man  looked  as  treacherous 
as  a  serpent ;  and  the  keen  flash  of  the  eye  showed  that  he  was 
as  dangerous. 

He  had  evidently  been  drinking.  On  the  table,  between  the 
worthies,  was  a  black  bottle,  and  Fenwick  held  in  his  hand  a 
half-emptied  tumbler  of  spirit.  I  saw  from  the  slight  color  in 
his  sallow  cheeks  that  he  had  reached  that  point  where  men, 
under  the  influence  of  drink,  grow  voluble,  boastful,  and  defiant 
— prone  to  rude  jest,  and  to  indiscreet  talking. 

Something  told  me  that  the  hand  of  Providence  had  directed 
my  steps  to  this  obscure  den ;  and,  gluing  my  eyes  to  the 
aperture  in  the  shutter,  I  preserved  perfect  silence,  and  disposed 
myself  to  listen. 


LXXII. 

ARCADES     AMBO. 

Fenwick  seemed  to  be,  as  I  have  said,  in  that  condition  which 
induces  men  to  talk  of  every  thing  or  nothing.  There  was  a 
defiant  abandon  in  his  manner  which  I  had  never  seen  before. 

"Come,  my  dear  Madam  Parkins,"  he  said,  with  a  harsh  and 
discordant  laugh,  as  he  pushed  the  bottle  toward  the  woman, 
"  you  don't  drink,  my  dear.  Fill,  fill !  Let  me  see  your  coun- 
tenance expand  under  the  mollifying  effects  of  this  devil's 
elixir!     It  will  much  improve  your  appearance!" 

The  woman  seemed  to  take  no  umbrage  at  this  unceremonious 
address.  She  coolly  grasped  the  bottle,  poured  out  some  of  the 
spirit,  and  raised  it  to  her  lips. 

But  I  observed  that  she  did  not  drink.     Then  I  caught  a  quick 


ARCADES    AMBO.  255 

glance  of  her  eye,  toward  her  companion.  She  was  watching 
him. 

""We  are  a  jolly  pair!"  he  exclaimed,  emptying  his  glass  and 
leaning  back  in  his  seat;  "we  resemble  lovers— eh,  my  dear 
creature  ?  "We  are  here  all  alone  and  tete  a  tete,  with  no  one  to 
disturb  us.  "We  are  revelling  in  the  uninterrupted  interchange 
of  fond  affection,  and  we  never  grow  weary  of  each  other's 
society." 

Nothing  more  sneering  and  disdainful  than  the  air  of  the 
speaker,  at  that  moment,  can  be  imagined. 

"  Come,  let  us  find  some  method  of  passing  the  evening  agree- 
ably, my  angel,"  continued  Fenwick.  "Tell  me  a  little  love 
romance,  my  dear  creature,  or  sing  me  a  song!" 

"Don't  you  think,"  said  the  woman,  in  her  harsh  and  forbid- 
ding voice,  "that  you  had  better  get  away  from  here?" 

"  And  pray  why,  madam?" 

"  The  rebels  are  not  far  off.  You  heard  the  guns  this  eve- 
ning." 

"  Ha,  ha ! — and  so  you  think,  my  dear,  that  Fenwick,  the 
Yankee  spy,  blockade-runner,  and  secret  agent,  had  better  get 
off,  eh?" 

"  Yes,"  was  the  cool  reply,  "  they  say  that  Colonel  Mordaunt 
is  coming  here ;  and  if  he  finds  you  " — 

"Curse  him!"  suddenly  exclaimed  Fenwick  ;  "do  you  think  I 
fear  him  ?     "Woe  to  him,  if  we  meet  again !" 

The  woman's  face  was  distorted  by  a  quick  sneer,  which  in- 
stantly disappeared,  but  not  without  attracting  the  attention  of 
her  companion. 

"  Aha!"  he  growled,  "you  are  laughing  at  me,  are  you?  You 
are  thinking  of  that  scene  in  the  Stone  House  at  Manas- 
sas, when  I  did  not  stay  to  fight  two  well-armed  men,  Mor- 
daunt and  that  cursed  friend  of  his,  Surry !  But  I  know  what 
I  am  about,  madam.  Do  you  think  I  am  going  to  meet  your 
Colonel  Mordaunt  in  open  fight,  instead  of  taking  him  una- 
wares ?" 

"You  met  him  once  at  Bickinond." 

A.  bitter  scowl  came  to  Fenwick's  face. 


256  SURRY    OF    EAGLE'S-NEST. 

"  I  did,"  was  his  reply,  "  but  under  a  compulsion  which  I  need 
not  explain,  my  dear  madam." 

The  woman  nodded,  as  if  the  subject  did  not  interest  her,  and 
Fenwick  again  had  recourse  to  the  bottle.  I  saw  his  cheeks 
grow  ruddier,  and  his  eyes  sparkle.  Soon  his  tongue  was  loos- 
ened. 

"  I  will  not  tell  you  about  my  little  arrangement  for  the  benefit 
of  our  dear  friend  Mordaunt,"  he  said,  with  his  sardonic  laugh; 
"  but,  by  way  of  passing  the  evening  agreeably,  I  ought  to  let 
you  know  why  I  don't  like  that  gentleman." 

"I  know  something,  but  not  all ;  tell  me  the  story,"  said  the 
woman,  who  still  watched  her  companion,  and  evidently  lost 
not  a  single  word. 

"You  really  wish  to  hear  all  about  that  little  affair,  my 
dear?" 

"  Yes." 

Fenwick  hesitated,  and  looked  with  a  quick  flash  of  the  eye  at 
his  companion.  It  was  the  last  struggle  between  his  cunning 
and  desire  to  talk. 

"After  all,  why  shouldn't  I  tell  you,  most  amiable  Parkins?" 
he  said,  with  a  leer;  "my  life  is  a  pretty  little  romance,  which 
will  amuse  us  this  dull  evening.  But  are  you  sure  no  one  besides 
can  hear  us?" 

"There  is  not  another  soul  within  five  miles  of  this  place!" 

"Are  you  certain?" 

"Yes." 

"  Nevertheless,  my  dear,  suppose  I  make  entirely  sure  ?" 

And  rising,  Fenwick  walked,  with  a  perfectly  steady  step,  to 
the  door,  from  which  he  passed  to  the  front  door  of  the  house, 
which  he  threw  open. 

I  shrank  down  in  the  shadow  of  the  porch,  within  five  feet  of 
him.  The  darkness  concealed  me — the  door  closed — and,  hear- 
ing the  sound  of  his  feet  in  the  apartment  again,  I  returned  tc 
my  place  at  the  shutter. 

Fenwick  had  resumed  his  former  seat,  and  prepared  himself 
for  his  narrative  by  swallowing  another  glass  of  brandy. 


AECADES    AMBO.  257 

"  You  really  think  it  will  interest  you  to  know  why  I  don't 
like  the  excellent  Colonel  Mordaunt?"  he  said. 

"Yes,  I  should  like  to  know." 

"  It  will  involve  a  long  explanation,  my  dear  one,  but  there 
should  be  perfect  confidence  between  us.  Must  I  begin  at  the 
beginning,  like  a  romance  ?" 

The  woman  nodded,  and  looked  at  her  companion  with  the 
same  furtive  glance. 

Fenwick  did  not  observe  it. 

"Now  for  the  little  romance  1"  he  said. 

"  I  am  listening,"  said  the  woman. 

Her  companion  leaned  back  and  said : 

"  Well,  my  dearly-beloved  elderly  Parkins,  once  upon  a  time 
there  were  two  young  men  about  twenty  years  of  age,  whose 
names,  respectively,  were  Fenwick  and  Mordaunt.  They  lived 
in  Fairfax  County,  in  the  State  of  Virginia,  and  were  a  perfect 
instance  of  Damon  and  Pythias.  They  could  not  hunt  without 
each  other,  ride  without  each  other,  or  pass  a  day  out  of  each 
other's  society.  This  heavenly  state  of  things  might,  no  doubt, 
have  lasted,  had  not  a  woman  appeared  on  the  scene — one  of 
that  angelic  sex  to  which  you,  my  charming  one,  belong." 

The  woman  remained  silent  and  impassive. 

"  Well,  this  pretty  devil,  who  was  to  rend  asunder  the  touch- 
ing bonds  of  friendship  between  Damon  Mordaunt  and  Pythias 
Fenwick,  was  a  young  lady  named  Carleton — Frances  Carleton. 
You  have  never  heard  of  her?" 

"Yes,  go  on." 

"  With  delight,  my  elderly  one.  Well,  Miss  Carleton  was  the 
daughter  of  an  English  gentleman,  who  had  come,  with  his  wife, 
daughter,  and  only  sister,  to  America,  a  few  months  before.  The 
sister  married  Mr.  Grafton,  a  clergyman,  of  Maryland;  the 
brother,  Miss  Frances's  father,  settled,  with  his  wife  and  daughter, 
in  Fairfax  County,  renting  a  small  estate  near  Manassas,  upon 
which  stood  the  picturesque  Stone  House,  in  which  we  recently 
had  our  pleasing  little  adventure. 

"Here  Messrs.  Fenwick  and  Mordaunt  first  knew  Frances 
Carleton.     She  was  a  pleasing  young  female,  with  light  auburn 


258  SURRY    OF   EAQ-LE'S-NEST. 

hair  falling  in  ringlets  around  her  face,  and  'as  pure  as  an 
angel,'  everybody  was  fond  of  saying.  So  Fenwick  and  Mor- 
daunt  immediately  fell  in  love  with  her,  and  from  that  moment 
grew  as  cold  as  ice  toward  each  other.  I  believe  there  was 
some  sickly  attempt  on  Mordaunt's  part  to  continue  on  friendly 
relations  with  his  old  companion,  but  that  gentleman  treated  his 
proposition  with  deserved  contempt ;  and  soon  events  took  place 
which  made  them  open  foes.  Mordaunt — curse  him! — was  the 
handsomer  of  the  two,  and  possessed  a  large  estate.  To  make  a 
long  story  short,  he  paid  his  addresses  to  Miss  Oarleton,  and 
married  her!" 

Fenwick  grew  livid  as  he  uttered  these  words,  and  paused. 

"That  made  me  his  life-long  foe !"  he  added,  at  length,  with 
bitterness ;  "  that  is  to  say,  it  made  my  young  friend,  Mr.  Fen- 
wick !  He  had  heard  preachers  prate  about  brotherly  love,  but 
never  pretended  to  love  the  rival  who  carried  off  the  woman  he 
had  been  crazily  in  love  with.  From  that  moment  he  began  to 
hate  Mordaunt  bitterly,  and  swore  in  his  inmost  soul  that  he 
would  take  vengeance  on  him.  It  was  not  a  common,  vulgar 
revenge  he  aimed  at,  a  duel  or  affray,  ending  in  mere  blows  and 
blood.  No  !  such  a  thing  seemed  silly  and  childish.  What  Fen- 
wick wanted,  my  dear  madam,  was  not  so  much  to  shed  his 
enemy's  heart's  blood,  as  to  make  his  existence  one  long  groan  of 
misery.  You,  no  doubt,  feel  shocked  at  this,  madam,  as  you  are  a 
woman,  but  that  is  the  way  men  hate  when  they  hate  in  earnest." 

"  I  can  understand  it." 

"  Very  well — all  the  better.  It  will  save  me  from  repeating 
over  and  over  that  the  amiable  Fenwick  had  a  hatred  for  the 
respectable  Mordaunt  so  bitter  that  it  stopped  at  nothing  in  the 
way  of  its  gratification.  To  reach  his  aim,  Fenwick  was  obliged 
to  have  recourse  to  what  is  called  treachery  by  fools,  but  strategy 
by  military  men.  He  did  not  quarrel  with  his  beloved  friend 
Mordaunt — the  coldness  between  them  completely  passed  away — 
and  very  soon  young  Mr.  Fenwick  was  a  regular  visitor  at  the 
Stone  House,  where  Mordaunt  lived  with  his  bride.  He  had  be- 
come the  '  friend  of  the  family,'  you  see,  madam,  and  Mrs.  Mor- 
daunt had  unbounded  confidence  in  him. 


AROADES    AMBO.  259 

"  For  a  long  time  no  opportunity  of  avenging  the  affront  put 
on  him  presented  itself  to  Mr.  Fenwick.  Mordauntand  his  wife 
were  completely  happy — and  the  idea  of  sowing  suspicion  or 
producing  any  misunderstanding  between  them  was  simply  ab- 
surd. They  '  lived  in  a  dream  of  felicity,'  as  says  the  poet,  my 
dear  madam  ;  and  Mr.  Fenwick  was  compelled  to  put  off  his 
little  plan  for  the  benefit  of  his  dear  friend  Mordaunt. 

"  Events,  however,  very  soon  occurred  which  seemed  to  favor 
his  scheme.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Oarleton  both  died,  within  a  few  days 
of  each  other,  and  Mordaunt  and  his  wife  were  left  alone  together 
in  the  Stone  House.  The  only  other  inmate  of  the  establishment 
was  a  most  charming,  respectable,  and  excellent  person,  of  the 
euphonious  name  of  Parkins,  who  filled  the  position  of  house- 
keeper. Have  you  ever  heard  of  that  lovely  creature,  madam?" 
asked  Fenwick,  with  a  guttural  laugh  ;  "  she  was  the  paragon  of 
her  sex." 

"  Go  on,"  was  the  response  of  the  woman,  who  was  evidently 
watching  Fenwick  closely,  and  waiting  for  him  to  come  to  some- 
thing which  had  excited  her  curiosity. 

"  The  respectable  Parkins,"  continued  Fenwick,  leaning  upon 
the  table,  and  looking  at  his  companion  with  a  leer  of  affected 
admiration,  "  was  in  every  way  calculated  to  prove  an  ornament 
to  her  sex,  and  had  only  a  single  failing.  Which  of  us  is  with- 
out his  peculiar  weakness  ?  That  of  the  Avorthy  Parkins  was  a 
love  of  money,  and,  not  to  weary  you,  my  dear  madam,  with  a 
prosy  explanation — Fenwick  bought  her.  He  gently  insinuated 
into  her  not  unwilling  hand  a  bank  note  of  the  denomination  of 
one  thousand  dollars,  with  the  promise  of  more,  and  lo !  the 
virtuous  Parkins  was  at  his  orders." 

"  Go  on,"  was  the  woman's  sole  reply. 

"  With  pleasure.  Well,  with  the  housekeeper  thus  bought, 
one  great  step  was  taken  toward  a  little  plan  Mr.  Fenwick  had 
on  foot.  It  had  suddenly  flashed  upon  him  one  day,  when  he 
visited  the  Stone  House  soon  after  Mr.  Carleton's  death,  and  he 
heard  Mordaunt  inform  his  wife  that  he  would  be  compelled  to 
go  to  England  to  attend  to  very  important  claims  left  by  the 
young  lady's  father.     A  charming  scene  followed — tears,  fond 


260  SURRY    OF    EAGLE'S-NEST. 

words,  remonstrances,  embraces,  kisses  !  Curse  him !"  exclaimed 
Fen  wick,  "  I  could  have  killed  him  where  he  stood  !" 

"  Why  didn't  you?"  asked  the  woman  coolly. 

"  For  this  good  reason — that  I  had  a  better  plan  in  view. 
Listen  now,  and  you  shall  hear  how  skilfully  the  youthful  Fen- 
wick  set  about  his  little  arrangements." 

The  speaker  touched  his  empty  glass  to  his  lips,  as  if  from 
habit,  looked  with  a  sneer  at  the  woman,  and  resumed  his 
monologue. 


LXXIII. 

MORDAUNT'S     SECRET. 

"  Mordatjnt  set  out  for  London.  He  expected,  he  said,  to  be 
absent  for  about  two  months — then  he  would  return,  never  more 
to  leave  '  what  was  dearer  to  him  than  all  the  world,  his  home.' 
Pathetic,  you  see !  I  witnessed  the  parting — they  were  locked 
for  about  ten  minutes  in  each  other's  arms — and  then  the  young 
lady  sank  into  a  chair,  sobbing  and  crying  as  if  her  heart  would 
break.  At  that  moment,  with  her  auburn  ringlets  around  her 
face,  she  looked  'like  an  angel.'  Fenwick,  you  see,  my  dear 
madam,  was  the  devil  lurking  near. 

"  He  continued  to  visit  the  house,  as  a  friend,  during  Mor- 
daunt's  absence ;  and  the  smiles  of  the  young  lady  nearly  turned 
him  from  his  purpose.  But  those  smiles  became  brighter  and 
brighter  as  the  days  rolled  by.  One  day  she  would  be  heard 
murmuring,  'It  is  only  three  weeks  now!'  Then,  'To-morrow 
it  is  only  eleven  days!'  She  was  counting  the  time,  you  see, 
before  her  husband  would  return — and  Mr.  Fenwick  grew  crazy 
with  rage  at  the  thought.  Pie  would  lie  awake  all  night,  and  toss 
and  rave  at  the  pictures  which  his  imagination  drew  of  their 
meeting — their  kisses,  embraces,  fond  words.  And  all  this  might 
have  been  Ins !  This  was  to  continue  before  his  eyes — all  this 
happiness  of  his  rival — when  Ac  was  writhing  in  agony?  He 
swore  in  his  heart  that  he  would  have  his  vengeance— and  he 
kept  his  oath!" 


MORDAUNT'S    SECRET.  261 

A  gloomy  shadow  seemed  to  cross  the  speaker's  face — his  eyes 
flashed. 

"Well,  madam,"  he  continued,  "the  plan  of  Fenwick  involved 
what  is  popularly  known  as  forgery.  He  gave  his  instructions 
to  the  excellent  Parkins,  and  then  proceeded  to  carry  out  his 
design.  One  day,  Mrs.  Mordaunt  received  a  letter  from  her  hus- 
band— hand-writing,  post-mark,  date,  every  thing  complete — 
announcing  that  he  would  be  in  New  York  on  a  certain  day; 
and  requesting,  for  reasons  which  he  would  subsequently  explain, 
that  she  would  meet  him  tbere.  His  friend  Mr.  Fenwick  would, 
no  doubt,  take  pleasure  in  escorting  her,  if  asked  to  do  so.  In- 
deed— added  the  writer — he  had  written  to  Mr.  Fenwick,  by  the 
same  mail,  requesting  that  he  would  accompany  her  to  New 
York,  and  see  to  her  safety. 

"  She  came  with  this  letter  in  her  hand,  and,  before  she  spoke, 
Fenwick  announced  the  receipt  of  a  letter,  requesting  his  escort 
for  madam.  That  would  have  removed  all  suspicion — but  she 
had  none.  Her  face  glowed — she  trembled  from  head  to  foot 
with  joy  and  excitement,  and  was  ready,  on  the  next  morning,  to 
commence  the  journey.  Leaving  the  worthy  madam  Parkins  to 
keep  house  in  her  absence,  she  set  out  in  her  carriage  with  Mr. 
Fenwick,  who  kindly  consented  to  drive  the  small  vehicle  him- 
self." 

The  speaker  paused  and  gulped  down  a  mouthful  of  the  raw 
spirit.  It  seemed  only  to  make  him  gloomier  and  more  mo- 
rose. 

"  They  had  a  pleasant  journey  across  the  Potomac  into  Mary- 
land," he  continued,  and  stopped  one  evening  at  a  house  where 
Mr.  Fenwick  had  friends,  or,  rather,  a  friend.  It  was  in  a  remote 
locality  between  wooded  hills,  and  well  suited  to  the  design  he 
had  in  view.  This  was  to  confine  Mrs.  Mordaunt,  under  the  old 
hag — your  respectable  aunt,  madam — until  Mordaunt  committed 
suicide,  or  died  of  misery ;  then  to  release  her.  Toward  the 
young  lady,  Fenwick  had  no  ill-feeling — he  almost  pitied  her, 
and  I  swear  to  you  he  treated  her  with  the  deepest  respect.  It 
was  her  misfortune,  not  her  fault,  that  she  was  entangled  in  this 
network  of  vengeance!" 


262  SURRY    OF    EAGLE'S-NEST. 

He  stopped — something  like  a  human  expression  touched  upon 
the  sneering  mask  :  then  it  fled  away. 

"Two  days  after  her  arrival,"  he  said,  relapsing  into  his  cyni- 
cal coldness,  "  she  gave  birth  to  a  son." 

"  Ah  !  and  did  the  child  live  ?" 

"  It  died  on  the  same  evening." 

The  woman  leaned  back  in  her  seat,  with  a  look  of  unmis- 
takable disappointment. 

"Go  on,"  she  said. 

"  Then  you  are  interested  in  my  pleasing  little  romance,"  said 
Fen  wick.  "  Charming — is  it  not,  my  dear  madam  ?  But  I  don't 
think  I  have  entirely  explained  the  plan  of  my  dear  friend  Fen- 
wick.  He  was  not  a  blood-thirsty  monster,  only  a  man  who  had 
sworn  vengeance  against  an  adversary.  He  had  none  to  satisfy 
against  the  wife.  It  was  Mordaunt  whom  he  hated — and  that 
note  of  the  value  of  one  thousand  dollars,  with  the  promise  of 
more,  had  been  presented,  as  a  small  testimony  of  regard,  to  the 
beautiful  Parkins,  in  order  to  induce  her  to  poison  Mordaunt's 
mind  upon  his  return.  The  little  scheme  was  all  arranged. 
When  he  appeared,  the  skilful  Parkins  was  to  rush  forward,  hair 
dishevelled,  accents  heart-broken,  and  convey  the  intelligence 
that  Mrs.  Mordaunt  had  deserted  her  husband's  roof,  in  company 
with  her  old  lover,  Fenwick.  It  is  true  that  the  most  devilish 
ingenuity  was  necessary  to  render  this  credible  to  Mordaunt — 
but  there  was  the  fact  of  madam's  absence,  and  Fenwick's  also. 
That  gentleman  had  sold  his  landed  estate — put  the  gold  in  his 
pocket — and  disappeared,  along  with  madam. 

"  You  see  how  every  thing  tended  to  deceive  Mordaunt;  but, 
in  addition  to  this,  some  letters  were  handed  to  him.  One  was 
from  his  wife — I  wrote  it — announcing  that  she  was  about  to 
leave  him  forever,  in  company  with  the  only  person  she  had  ever 
really  loved.  The  other  was  from  me — I  mean  from  Fenwick, 
madam — and  it  contained  only  these  words:  'You  were  my 
successful  rival.  What  are  you  now?'  When  those  letters  were 
given  to  Mordaunt,  he  no  longer  doubted.  In  one  day,  they  said, 
he  became  ten  years  older.  Then  he  commenced  the  hunt  after 
the  triumphant  Fenwick ;  but  that  gentleman  managed  to  l»ave 


MORD  AUNT'S    SECRET.  263 

his  name  inserted  in  a  list  of  passengers  sailing  for  Europe,  and 
saw  that  Mordaunt  received  the  paper.  That  took  him  out  of 
the  country — and  he  did  not  return  for  more  than  fifteen  years. 

"Thus  you  will  perceive,  my  dear  madam,"  continued  the 
speaker  coolly,  "  that  Mr.  Eenwick  may  be  said  to  have  at  last 
secured  a  very  pretty  little  vengeance.  His  rival  was  broken- 
hearted and  in  exile — his  hate,  and  it  was  intense,  was  for  the 
moment  glutted.  But,  you  will  ask,  what  became  of  Mrs.  Mor- 
daunt? My  dear  madam,  did  you  ever  hear  of  that  scourge 
called  puerperal  fever  ?  The  young  lady  was  attacked  by  this 
malady  upon  the  birth  of  her  child,  and  lost  her  reason.  I  was 
sorry,"  muttered  Fenwick.  "  I  swear  to  you  I  was  sorry,  and 
all  was  done  that  could  be  done.  She  was  sent  to  a  public  asy- 
lum under  her  maiden  name,  and  there  she  remained,  uncured, 
until  her  cousin,  Miss  Grafton,  now  an  orphan,  discovered  her. 

"My  story's  growing  rather  prosy — eh!  my  dear  madam?" 
continued  Fenwick.  "  Well,  it  is  nearly  done.  There  was  a 
curious  end  to  all  these  adventures.  Miss  Grafton  was  the  exact 
image  of  her  cousin,  Frances  Oarleton,  when  she  was  a  young 
lady — fair  complexion,  golden  ringlets,  blue  eyes,  and  all.  So 
what  must  that  admirer  of  the  ladies,  Mr.  Fenwick,  do,  but  fall 
in  love  with  her  ?  He  met  her  one  day  at  the  asylum — and  often 
thereafter.  He  formed  the  design  of  marrying  her.  But  she  was 
incessantly  engaged  in  her  duties  as  assistant  at  a  school — her 
father,  the  clergyman,  having  followed  his  wife  to  the  grave, 
leaving  the  daughter  nothing.  Then  one  day,  Fenwick  said,  '  I 
will  give  your  poor  cousin  a  quiet  home,  if  you  will  come  and 
take  care  of  her,  Miss  Grafton;'  and  lo  !  with  the  sweet  Parkins 
for  companion,  the  two  ladies  came  to  reside  in  the  lively  man- 
sion we  now  occupy." 

The  woman  nodded ;  and  her  companion  coolly  went  on  : 

"The  plans  of  Fenwick  had  thus  apparently  been  crowned 
with  success.  His  hatred  was  gratified ;  his  rival  miserable  and 
in  exile  ;  the  young  lady  whom  he  loved  as  the  living  image  of 
Frances  Oarleton,  the  light  of  his  youth,  was  under  his  roof. 
But  when  was  virtue  really  rewarded  ?  The  insane  lady  never 
even  seemed  aware  of  her  benefactor's  existence ;  Miss  Grafton 


264:  SURRY   OF  EAGLE'S-NEST. 

had  evidently  taken  up  a  positive  dislike  to  liim ;  and  presto ! 
who  should  reappear  upon  the  scene  hut  Mordaunt,  strong, 
dangerous,  and  thirsting  for  the  amiable  Fenwick's  blood! 

"  That  gentleman  put  himself  to  no  trouble  to  meet  Mr.  Mor- 
daunt, having  other  affairs  to  attend  to  ;  but  fate  brought  them 
together  at  Richmond,  in  April  last  year,  and  they  fought,  Mr. 
Fenwick  receiving  a  bullet  in  his  breast,  which  he  purposes  some 
day  to  return  with  interest  to  its  owner.  Soon  afterward,  in 
July  of  the  same  year,  the  rivals  met  again  at  the  Stone  House, 
near  Manassas,  when  Mr.  Fenwick  was  engaged  in  the  pious 
task  of  burying  the  insane  lady,  in  the  spot  where  she  had  been 
so  happy.  This  was  in  accordance,  as  you  know,  my  dear 
madam,  with  her  own  request :  we  took  the  body  there,  and, 
when  retiring  from  the  grave,  Mr.  Fenwick  was  again  assailed  by 
his  adversary.  And  for  what  ?  Had  he  made  the  poor  lady  lose 
her  mind?  Not  at  all.  It  was  the  fever.  Had  he  produced  her 
death  ?  No,  she  was  treated  with  all  kindness,  for  Mr.  Fenwick 
really  pitied  her,  and  religiously  obeyed  her  last  request. 

"  Thus  you  see,  my  dear  madam,  Mr.  Fenwick  was  an  ill- 
treated  personage.  Everybody  tries  to  cut  his  throat,  and  Miss 
Grafton,  on  your  late  excursion  to  Alexandria  to  attend  to  some 
of  your  affairs  there,  leaves  you  on  the  road,  doesn't  wait  to  say 
good-by,  and  takes  refuge  with  entire  strangers,  instead  of 
returning,  as  she  should  have  done,  to  this  hospitable  roof. 
When  Mr.  Fenwick  puts  himself  to  the  trouble  of  discovering 
her  retreat,  and  presents  himself  before  her,  she  draws  herself 
up  with  the  air  of  a  queen,  declares  that  she  never  wishes  to 
return  to  this  lively  abode  in  the  Wilderness,  and  plainly  inti- 
mates to  him  that  his  visits  are  disagreeable,  his  addresses  hate- 
ful. Yes,  hateful  /"  added  Fenwick  gloomily.  "  You  were  right 
in  what  you  said  to  me  one  day — she  cannot  bear  me.  And  I — 
I  would  cut  off  my  right  hand  to  win  this  girl!" 

For  a  moment  there  was  silence.  Then  Fenwick  broke  into 
a  harsh  laugh. 

"  Well,  that's  the  little  romance  I  promised  you,  respected 
Madam  Parkins!"  he  said.  "Now,  do  you  like  it?  Is  it  gay, 
cheerful,  lively ;  the  sort  of  thing  that  makes  an  evening  pass 


MORDAUNT'S    SECRET.  265 

delightfully,  and  puts  one  to  bed  in  a  mood  that  brings  on  pleas- 
ant dreams?  The  recollection  of  these  little  occurrences  is  the 
chief  happiness  of  my  existence.  You  see,  I  am  landless  nowi 
and  though  I  manage  to  scrape  together  a  very  respectable  in- 
come, and  have  many  powerful  friends — although  they  never 
acknowledge  my  acquintance  in  public — I  cannot  be  said  to  have 
many  sources  of  happiness  except  this.  It  is  enough.  The 
thought  of  Mordaunt  wretched  and  broken-hearted  suffices  me ; 
and  if  my  little  affair  with  that  gentleman  has  amused  my 
dearest  Parkins,  I  am  more  than  happy!" 

With  these  ironical  words  Fenwick  rose  and  yawned. 

"I  am  tired  with  my  long  ride,"  he  added,  "and  shall  now, 
madam,  bid  you,  most  respectfully,  good-night.  I  must  cross 
the  river  before  daylight  at  the  old  place,  and  be  with  my  friend 
General  Pope  by  sunrise,  if  possible.  I  have  intelligence  he  will 
be  glad  to  get." 

"  From  Richmond  ?" 

"Yes,  we  have  many  more  friends,  you  know,  down  there,  than 
people  think ;  and  even  among  the  employes  of  the  War  De- 
partment— but  I  am  blabbing  secrets.  Where  are  my  arms, 
most  excellent  Mrs.  Parkins?" 

"On  the  mantel-piece." 

"I  will  take  them  to  my  room  with  me,  for  fear  of  accidents." 

And  he  made  a  step  toward  the  mantel-piece. 

Before  he  reached  it  I  had  burst  open  the  door  with  one  blow 
of  my  heel,  and  was  standing  in  the  apartment,  with  a  cocked 
pistol  pointed  at  his  heart. 

"You  are  my  prisoner!"  I  said.  "Move  a  step,  and  you  are 
dead." 


12 


266  SURRY    OF    EAGLE'S-NEST. 

LXXIV. 

THE    SNAKE    SCOTCHED. 

Fenwiok  recoiled,  and  made  a  step  to  seize  his  pistol,  which 
was  lying  in  its  holster  on  the  mantel-piece.  I  raised  my  wea- 
pon, directed  it  at  his  head,  and  said  to  him  : 

"  I  give  you  my  word  of  honor,  sir,  that  if  you  move  another 
foot,  I  will  hlow  your  brains  out." 

He  became  livid,  and  uttered  the  hoarse  growl  of  a  tiger  at 
bay. 

"  "Who  are  yon  ?"  he  cried,  with  a  flash  of  fury  in  his  blood- 
shot eyes. 

"  You  know  me  perfectly  well,  as  you  have  already  met  me. 
I  see  you  remember." 

"Your  purpose?" 

"To  arrest  you." 

"  And  by  what  authority — yes,  sir !  by  what  authority  is  this 
intrusion  on  my  premises — this  threat  with  a  loaded  pistol!" 

"  By  my  own.  I  require  no  authority  to  arrest  a  spy  and  an 
infamous  wretch.  I  know  you  thoroughly.  Resist  in  the 
slightest  degree,  and,  by  heavens !  I  will  lay  you  dead  on  that 
floor!" 

Anger  faded  from  the  eyes — cunning  and  treachery  took  its 
place. 

"  I  am  at  a  loss  to  imagine  the  meaning  of  this  scene,  sir,"  he 
said,  with  affected  coolness  ;  "you  say  that  you  intend  to  arrest 
me  :  where  and  before  whom  am  I  to  be  carried  ?" 

"  Come  with  me,  and  you  will  see." 

"  How  am  I  to  go  at  this  hour  of  the  night  ?  In  the  morning, 
if  you  insist,  sir." 

"No — we  are  going  to  take  a  little  ride  to-night.  You  will 
accompany  me  instantly — if  you  have  no  horse,  you  will  walk." 

He  must  have  seen  that  no  wheedling  would  avail  him. 

"I  have  a  horse,"  he  said  hoarsely.  "I  will  go  and  saddle 
him." 


THE    SNAKE    SCOTCHED.  267 

l'I  will  accompany  you." 

"  Even  if  I  give  you  my  parole,  sir,  not  to  attempt  to  escape !" 

"  Even  if  you  give  me  a  hundred  paroles." 

At  this  last  insult  his  face  grew  livid. 

"Major  Surry,  you  shall  answer  for  this!" 

"  Ah !  you  know  me,  I  see." 

"I  do — you  shall  know  me,  too  !" 

And,  grinding  his  teeth  audibly,  he  left  the  room.  I  followed 
to  a  small  stable  behind  the  house,  where  a  horse  stood,  and  saw 
him  saddled. 

"Mount!"  I  said,  "and  ride  before  me  down  that  path." 

He  obeyed,  and  we  had  soon  reached  the  spot  where  my  horse 
was  tied.  The  woman  Parkins  had  not  uttered  a  single  word, 
nor  did  she  now  appear  at  the  door. 

I  directed  Fenwick  to  ride  on  my  left,  and  I  never  removed 
my  eyes  from  him.  AVith  such  a  man,  no  precautions  were  too 
great. 

"  Really,  sir,"  he  said,  as  we  rode  on,  "this  is  a  most  remark- 
able proceeding.  I  am  at  a  loss  to  understand  what  brought 
you  into  this  out-of-the-way  place,  or  induced  you  to  take  up  the 
most  unfounded  supposition  that  I  am  a  spy." 

"  I  will,  ere  long,  enlighten  you." 

"  Where  are  you  conducting  me?" 

"  You  will  soon  discover." 

"  I  protest  again,  sir,  against  your  most  unauthorized  " — 

"  You  will  please  spare  your  remarks — I  am  tired  of  the  sound 
of  your  voice.     I  have  heard  nothing  else  for  the  last  hour." 

By  the  light  of  the  moon,  which  had  just  risen,  I  saw  him 
turn  livid  ;  and  from  that  moment  he  said  no  more. 

More  than  once  his  quick  glance  was  directed  toward  me,  as 
though  to  discover  if  there  were  any  hope  of  escape.  But  a 
pistol  barrel  shone  in  the  moonlight — he  uttered  a  sort  of  growl, 
and  rode  on  in  silence. 

Soon  the  cavalry  camp  came  in  sight.  I  rode  to  General 
Stuart's  head-quarters,  and  found  him  just  about  to  stretch  hnn< 
self  upon  his  red  blanket. 

"Who  is  that?"  he  said. 


268  SURRY    OF    EAGLE'S-NEST. 

I  dismounted  and  approached,  in  company  with  Fenwick. 

"  Here  is  a  prisoner,  General." 

"Ah.     Where  did  you  take  him?" 

"  I  will  tell  you." 

And,  leading  the  General  aside,  I  told  him  enough  to  convince 
him  of  Fenwick's  dangerous  character.  The  revelation  which  I 
had  heard  of  Mordaunt's  private  history  was,  of  course,  not  al- 
luded to. 

"If  Mordaunt  says  he's  a  spy,"  said  the  General,  "the  thing 
is  settled.  There  is  no  better  or  more  reliable  officer  in  my 
command.  Can  you  bring  any  specific  charge  against  this 
man?" 

"  Only  this — that  I  heard  him,  with  his  own  lips,  declare  that 
he  was  going  to  set  out  at  daylight  for  General  Pope's  head- 
quarters, with  important  intelligence  from  Richmond." 

"  That's  more  than  enough.  I  will  embody  your  statement  in 
a  communication  to  the  War  Department,  and  send  him  to  Rich- 
mond in  the  morning,  under  guard." 

We  returned  to  the  spot  where  Fenwick  was  standing. 

"Well,  General,"  he  said,  with  an  admirable  affectation  of 
candor,  "  I  hope  you  will  not  authorize  this  most  singular  pro- 
ceeding." 

He  had  addressed  himself  to  the  wrong  person.  Stuart  had 
no  patience  whatever  with  people  in  citizen's  dress  suspected  of 
disloyalty. 

"  I  am  tired,"  was  his  brief  reply. 

"  But,  General,  I  have  been  arrested  in  my  house,  without 
ft-arning,  and  " — 

"I  am  sleepy,"  said  Stuart,  in  tones  still  briefer. 

"  I  protest.  General,  with  all  my  power,  against" — 

"Take  this  man  away,  and  put  him  under  guard,"  said  the 
General.  "  Give  the  sentinel  instructions  to  fire  upon  him,  if  he 
makes  the  least  movement  to  escape." 

And  Stuart  yawned,  and  stretched  himself  upon  his  couch. 

Baffled,  and  overcome  with  rage,  Fenwick  turned  away,  and 
was  conducted  to  a  fire,  where  he  was  placed  under  guard. 

"Keep  special  watch  over  this  prisoner,"  I  said  to  the  guard, 


THE    NIGHT    ATTACK.  269 

"  he  is  dangerous,  and  will  outwit  you,  if  you  take  your  eyea 
from  him  for  a  moment." 

"  Yes,  sir — all  right,  sir,"  was  the  response. 

"  You  have  received  your  instructions  ?" 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  Kill  him,  if  he  attempts  to  escape." 

The  sentinel  tried  the  lock  of  his  carbine,  which  clicked  signifi- 
cantly, and  then  laughed. 

Unfortunately,  I  did  not  pay  sufficient  attention  to  another 
sound  which  I  afterward  remembered — the  rattle  of  gold  pieces 
in  Fenwick's  pocket. 


LXXV. 

THE     NIGHT     ATTACK. 

I  stretched  myself  beside  Stuart,  and  was  soon  asleep.  "We 
were  destined  to  have  a  somewhat  disagreeable  waking. 

Half  an  hour  before  daylight,  we  suddenly  heard  heavy  firing 
near  at  hand,  and  started  up. 

The  firing  approached  with  rapidity  ;  the  sound  of  horses  at  a 
gallop  was  heard ;  and,  at  the  next  moment,  the  picket,  in  the 
direction  of  the  river,  appeared,  retreating  in  hot  haste. 

"Look  out!"  they  cried,  "the  enemy  are  on  you  !" 

Stuart  sprang  to  the  saddle,  and,  in  a  moment,  his  bugle  was 
heard  sounding  "  Boots  and  Saddles  " — then,  "  To  Horse." 

He  had  hardly  formed  line  when  the  enemy's  cavalry  came 
upon  him.  They  had  rapidly  spurred  through  the  shallow  ford, 
driven  in  the  picket,  and,  proceeding  apparently  upon  soma 
information,  were  now  charging  straight  upon  Stuart. 

"Where  is  the  prisoner  I  brought  last  night!"  I  suddenly  ex- 
claimed. 

"  Escaped,  Major,"  replied  a  courier. 

I  darted  to  Stuart. 

"  Look  out,  General !  Fenwick  has  escaped  to  the  enemy,  and. 
no  doubt,  given  full  information  of  your  strength  and  position.* 


270  SURRY    OF    EAGLE'S-NEST. 

"I'll  fight  them,  if  they  are  a  corps!"  exclaimed  the  General, 
hotly.     "Form  platoons!" 

His  sonorous  voice  was  heard  above  the  crack  of  the  carbines. 

"  Draw  sabres  ! — charge !" 

And,  placing  himself  in  front,  Stuart  led  the  charge  in  person, 
his  sabre  gleaming  in  the  moonlight. 

Never  shall  I  forget  that  scene.  It  was  one  of  the  wildest  and 
most  romantic  I  ever  witnessed.  At  least  a  division  of  Federal 
cavalry  had  attacked  Fitz  Lee's  small  brigade,  and,  for  half  an 
hour,  nothing  was  seen  but  a  fierce  and  determined  struggle 
between  dusky  shadows — nothing  heard  but  yells,  the  sharp  ring 
of  the  carbine,  and  the  clash  of  the  sabre. 

It  was,  altogether,  a  most  mixed-up  affair,  and  I  can  give  no 
better  description  of  it  than  by  saying  that  the  men  seemed  to 
fight  each  for  himself,  and  without  seeing  their  opponents. 

I  tried  to  keep  with  Stuart — lost  him — and  found  myself  in 
the  midst  of  a  hundred  blue-coats. 

A  sabre-blow  cut  my  hat  from  my  head — then  my  horse  was 
shot,  and  I  felt  him  stagger.  The  next  moment  he  fell,  carrying 
me  with  him,  and  catching  my  leg  under  him. 

I  was  making  violent  efforts  to  disengage  myself,  when  a 
squadron  of  Stuart's,  with  the  General  at  their  head,  charged 
over  me — the  hoofs  of  the  horses  brushing  my  very  face. 

The  squadron  charged  with  the  sabre,  forcing  the  enemy  back, 
and  I  struggled  to  my  feet. 

A  dozen  riderless  horses  were  galloping  to  and  fro,  mad  with 
terror,  and  I  caught  one,  and  mounted.  I  had  scarcely  done  so, 
when  Stuart's  line  was  seen  falling  back,  under  a  heavy  fire,  and 
pressed  closely  by  a  heavy  force,  with  drawn  sabres. 

The  crisis  had  come.  Day  showed  the  enemy  the  small  force 
of  Stuart,  and  they  were  pressing  him  close. 

I  was  by  him,  and  saw  the  man  "  under  pressure."  His  face 
burned  like  fire,  his  eyes  blazed,  and  he  looked  dangerous.  "Do 
or  die"  was  in  every  look,  and,  sword  in  hand,  he  fought  among 
the  men. 

Reaching  a  good  position,  lie  faced  about  and  met  them,  sabre 
to  sabre.     The  fight  began  to  rage  more  furiously  than  before, 


THE    NIGHT    ATTACK.  271 

and  the  whole  field  was  filled  with  the  clash  of  sabres  and  the 
ring  of  pistols  and  carbines. 

In  five  minutes  Stuart  would  have  been  forced  back  and  com- 
pelled to  retire  from  the  field,  when  suddenly  I  heard  a  ringing 
shout  beyond  the  hill  on  the  left — then  a  long  line  of  sabres  glit- 
tered on  the  crest.  A  fresh  regiment,  on  spirited  horses,  burst 
like  a  torrent  upon  the  enemy's  flank,  and  in  front  of  them  I 
recognized  Mordaunt. 

The  charge  of  Mordaunt's  column  completely  reversed  the 
whole  aspect  of  the  field.  The  Federal  cavalry  recoiled,  wa- 
vered, and  then  fell  back.  Fitz  Lee  advanced  with  a  cheer  in 
front;  Mordaunt  closed  in  with  the  sabre;  and  in  a  marvellously 
brief  space  the  Federal  cavalry  were  driven  to  the  river. 

Suddenly  a  white  cloud,  tipped  with  fire,  rose  from  the  oppo- 
site bank,  and  a  shell  tore  through  the  ranks,  overthrowing  men 
and  horses.  Stuart  rode  up  to  Mordaunt,  who  was  advancing 
with  his  column. 

"Colonel,"  said  Stuart,  "do  you  think  you  can  take  that  bat- 
tery?" 

Mordaunt  laughed,  and  wiped  his  bloody  sabre  on  the  mane  of 
his  superb  black  horse. 

"I  can  try,  General,"  was  his  reply,  and  his  face  was  resplen- 
dent. His  eyes  sparkled — his  white  teeth  appeared  under  his 
black  mustache :  I  had  never  before  seen  Mordaunt  look  happy. 

Three  bounds  of  his  horse  took  him  to  the  head  of  his  column, 
upon  which  two  guns  were  now  pouring  a  heavy  fire. 

"Forward!"  he  cried,  with  a  whirl  of  his  sabre.  "Follow 
me!" 

And,  darting  at  a  gallop  down  the  steep  descent,  at  the  head 
of  his  column,  Mordaunt  fell  like  a  thunderbolt  upon  the  rear  of 
the  enemy,  now  retreating  rapidly  across  the  ford. 

The  column  did  not  pause.  The  platoons  splashed  into  the 
river,  spurred  through,  and  were  then  seen  to  mount  the  oppo- 
site slope,  charging  straight  into  the  muzzles  of  the  artillery, 
which  hurled  in  their  faces  a  hurricane  of  canister. 

Still  the  column  advanced  at  a  headlong  gallop,  though  wide 
gaps  were  visible  in  the  ranks,  torn  and  bleeding  from  the  storm 


272  SURRY    OF    EAGLE'S-NEST. 

sweeping  through  them — and  still  the  flash  of  Mordaunt's  sabre 
was  distinguished  in  front,  his  powerful  black  horse  mounting 
the  slope  with  long  leaps,  which  cleared  r.ocks,  ravines,  and  eve- 
ry thing. 

The  Federal  sharpshooters  greeted  him  with  a  rapid  and  de- 
structive fire,  but  were  charged,  ridden  over,  and  cut  down  with 
the  sabre.  Then  a  wild  cheer  arose  above  the  roar  of  the  guns 
— the  Southern  column  disappeared  in  the  cloud  of  smoke — 
the  next  moment  they  were  seen  sabring  the  cannoneers  at  the 
guns,  which  had  been  hastily  limbered  up  to  be  carried  off. 

It  was  too  late.  Mordaunt  was  in  possession  of  the  hill :  he 
was  seen  to  close  with  the  Federal  cavalry,  in  a  desperate  hand- 
to-hand  conflict — and  Stuart,  who  had  risen  in  his  stirrups  and 
shouted  as  he  witnessed  the  charge,  placed  himself  at  the  head 
of  the  main  body,  and  went  at  headlong  speed  to  his  support. 

The  ford  was  passed — Fitz  Lee  led  his  column  straight  up 
the  hill  on  Mordaunt's  left,  and  in  an  instant  the  enemy  were 
furiously  attacked  in  flank.  Under  this  double  assault  they  wa- 
vered— the  lines  broke,  and  then  gave  way,  followed  by  the 
Southerners  with  triumphant  cheers. 

The  crest  was  won,  and  the  enemy  completely  routed. 


LXXYI. 

AN    OLD    ACQUAINTANCE. 

Stuart  was  sitting  his  horse  upon  the  crest,  when  Mordaunt 
rode  up.  The  General's  face  was  glowing,  his  blue  eyes  full  of 
martial  fire.  Mordaunt,  on  the  contrary,  displayed  no  emotion 
on  his  dark  countenance,  and  saluted  with  military  coolness. 

"A  splendid  charge,  Colonel!"  exclaimed  Stuart,  grasping  his 
hand.  "I  see  you  are  of  the  'if-you-want-to-take-a-battery-I'm- 
your-man'  sort!     I  never  saw  any  thing  finer." 

Mordaunt  bowed. 

"Every  thing  depends  on  the  start  in  cavalry,  General — as 
you  know  better  than  I  do." 

"  Yes,  yes." 


AN   OLD   ACQUAINTANCE.  273 

"  The  men  carried  the  hill  easily." 

"And  your  loss?" 

"  I  am  afraid  it  is  considerable.  The  artillery  had  full  play  on 
the  column.     In  the  charge  over  yonder  I  lost  very  few." 

"  And  saved  the  day," 

Mordaunt  inclined  again. 

"My  men  will  be  proud  to  hear  that  you  approve  of  their  con- 
duct, General." 

"  It  was  splendid.  But  who  is  that  riding  up  ?  Saltoun,  or 
I'm  mistaken!" 

The  words  were  scarcely  uttered  when  an  officer,  wearing  the 
uniform  of  a  lieutenant  of  cavalry,  approached  at  a  gallop,  and  I 
recognized  the  young  Marylander  who  had  joined  us  that  day  in 
the  Valley,  at  Captain  Bogy's  quarters. 

A  slender  mustache  curled  proudly  above  his  handsome,  laugh- 
ing mouth ;  his  eyes  sparkled  ;  and  from  his  hat  floated  gallantly 
a  splendid  feather.  He  sat  his  horse  admirably — and  galloped 
up,  holding  one  hand  in  his  breast. 

"We  thundered  'em  that  time,  General!"  he  exclaimed,  with 
a  loud  laugh.  "We  took  their  artillery,  drove  them,  and  they 
are  not  done  running  yet !" 

"Bully  for  you!"*  replied  Stuart,  echoing  the  young  man's 
laugh  in  a  manner  which  showed  that  he  was  a  favorite.  "  So 
you  have  got  your  lieutenancy  in  the  Maryland  company  ?" 

"  Yes,  General,  and  made  the  company  a  speech !  I  told  them 
'the  despot's  heel  was  on  their  shore,'  and  now  or  never  was  the 
time  to  strike!" 

"Good! — see  that  they  do  it.  But  what  is  the  matter  with 
your  arm  ?" 

I  looked,  and  saw  that  the  young  lieutenant's  sleeve  was  cov- 
ered with  blood. 

"I  was  shot  in  the  charge,"  he  replied,  "but  it's  not  much. 
Only  a  flesh  wound.     How  are  you,  Major  Surry?" 

And,  spurring  to  my  side,  the  gay  youngster  shook  handa  cor- 
dially. 

*  A  fuTorltc  expr«Mioa  of  Stuarf*. 
12* 


274  SURRY    OF    EAG-LE'S-NEST. 

""We  are  old  friends,  you  know,"  lie  said,  with  a  laugh.  "I 
saw  old  Bogy  yesterday,  and  dined  with  him.  He  is  looking  out 
for  another  wagon!" 

Mordaunt  turned  at  this  movement,  and,  addressing  the  young 
man,  desired  him  to  carry  an  order  to  his  command,  then  moving 
upon  the  road  to  the  Rappahannock.  He  bowed  with  soldierly 
grace,  touched  his  horse  with  the  spur,  and  darted  off  at  a  gal- 
lop, his  black  feather  floating  in  the  wind. 

"A  gay  youngster,  Mordaunt,"  said  Stuart;  "how  does  he 
fight  ?" 

"  Like  a  firebrand !"  was  the  reply.  "  He  is  as  brave  as  steel, 
and  doesn't  seem  to  know  what  stopping  in  a  charge  means." 

"  I  thought  he  was  made  of  that  sort  of  stuff  from  the  first. 
He  joined  me  in  the  Valley." 

"  A  Marylander,  I  believe.  But  here  is  an  officer  with  a  pris- 
oner, who  must  have  something  to  communicate,  General." 

The  officer  approached  and  touched  his  hat. 

"  This  man  can  tell  you  something  about  the  attack  last  night, 
General." 

"  "Well,  out  with  it,  "  was  Stuart's  reply,  addressing  the  pris- 
oner. 

His  information  was  soon  extracted.  A  man  in  citizen's 
dress,  perfectly  answering  to  the  description  of  Fenwick,  had 
come  into  their  lines  toward  daylight  that  morning,  and  asked 
for  the  commanding  officer;  he  could  tell,  he  said,  what  Con- 
federate force  was  in  front,  and  how  it  could  be  surprised.  He 
was  conducted  to  head-quarters,  and  half-an-hour  afterward 
the  order  came  to  mount. 

So  Fenwick  had  brought  the  attack  upon  us,  as  I  expected — 
but  how  had  he  escaped?  This  I  learned  long  afterward.  He 
had  bribed  his  guard  with  a  considerable  sum  in  gold,  which  he 
had  upon  his  person ;  the  man  could  not  resist  the  dazzling 
coin ;  and  Fenwick  had  been  allowed  to  glide  off,  mount  his 
horse,  and  escape  to  a  point  down  the  river,  where  he  crossed, 
and  entered  the  Federal  lines. 

Hence  the  night  attack  upon  Stuart. 


MY    CAPTURED    HORSE.  275 


LXXYII. 

WH.iT     I     FOUND     IN     THE     SADDLE-POCKETS     OF     MY 

CAPTURED  HORSE. 

Befoke  proceeding  with  my  narrative,  I  shall  call  the  reader's 
attention  to  a  discovery  which  I  made  on  the  morning  succeed- 
ing the  encounter  upon  the  Rapidan. 

It  will  be  remembered  that  my  hat  was  carried  away  by  a 
sabre  cut,  during  the  night  attack,  and  my  horse  killed.  I 
regained  my  own  hat,  but  mounted  somebody  else's  horse;  and 
when  I  came  to  examine  the  equipments,  I  found,  from  papers  in 
the  side-pockets  of  the  "  McOlellan-tree,"  that  the  animal  bad 
belonged  to  a  Lieutenant  Govran,  of  the  Federal  Army,  no  doubt 
wounded  or  killed  in  the  engagement.  The  papers  alluded  to 
were  chiefly  private  letters  addressed  to  the  lieutenant;  and 
what  was  my  astonishment  to  find  among  them  one  directed  in 
the  handwriting  of  my  brother  Will ! 

His  letter  was  gay  and  rollicking — such  as  one  youngster 
addresses  to  another  who  has  been  with  him  at  West  Point.  It 
announced  that  the  writer  had  just  secured  his  transfer  to  the 
cavalry  ;  had  made  "  a  scout "  in  the  direction  of  White  Plains  ; 
and  had  met,  at  the  residence  of  a  lady  in  that  vicinity,  a  certain 
Miss  Henrietta  Fitzhugh,  with  whom  he  had  fallen  desperately  in 
love !  In  every  line  of  the  letter  I  recognized  Will.  He  was 
evidently  the  same  jovial,  thoughtless,  rollicking  boy  as  before; 
and  his  letter  overflowed  with,  fun,  jokes,  and  rapture  about  his 
pew  flame. 

"  But  what  do  you  think,  Tom,"  he  went  on,  "  the  little  raa'm- 
selle  just  turned  up  her  nose  at  my  blue  uniform,  and  would 
Hcarcely  speak  to  me.  She  is  not  more  than  sixteen,  but  she's  a 
perfect  tartar,  and,  as  the  only  way  of  standing  any  chance  with 
her,  I  believe  I'll  desert,  put  on  a  gray  jacket,  and  enlist  in  old 
Stonewall  Jackson's  band.  I  wouldn't  be  surprised  if  I  had  an 
opportunity  soon.  Pope  seems  blind,  and  I  predict  Jackson 
will  be  after  him  soon  with  a  sharp  stick.     You  can't  think  how 


276  SURRY    OF    EAGLE'S-NEST. 

crazy  my  little  friend,  Miss  Henrietta,  is  about  Jackson  and 
Stuart.  She  goes  into  ecstasies  about  'em,  and  made  me  blue 
to  think  I  was  fighting  against  them  and  old  Virginia.  Tom,  I 
would  give  my  right  arm  if  this war  was  finished!" 

Will's  adjectives  preceding  the  word  "  war  "  I  refrain  from 
recording. 

Such  was  his  letter.  It  was  a  curious  way  of  hearing  from 
one's  brother  in  the  United  States  Army !  But  there  it  was ;  and 
I  hope  I  shall  not  be  regarded  as  having  violated  "  private  cor- 
respondence." 

As  I  rode  along  I  continued  to  reflect,  not  without  sadness, 
upon  this  discovery.  Has  the  reader  forgotten  Miss  Henrietta 
Fitzhugh  ?  It  is  probable.  But  I  remembered  her  perfectly — 
her  gayety  and  abandon ;  her  coquettish  ways ;  and  the  clouds 
and  sunshine  which  alternately  flitted  across  the  pretty  face 
of  the  little  witch  of  sixteen.  For  Will  to  have  fallen  in  love 
with  her,  complicated  matters  terribly.  She  was  passionately 
Southern  in  her  feelings ;  and  could  not  bear  the  thought  of 
even  speaking  to  a  Federal  officer.  That  of  all  the  maidens  in 
the  whole  wide  world,  my  brother  should  go  and  place  his  affec- 
tions upon  this  little  will-o'-the-wisp  ! 

I  put  away  the  letter  with  a  sigh,  went  to  attend  to  my 
duties,  and  tried  to  forget  the  whole  affair.  But  still  I  kept 
thinking  of  it. 


LXXVIII. 

A  GLIMPSE  OF  GENERAL  EARLY. 

Stuart  continued  to  press  the  Federal  cavalry  toward  the 
Rappahannock  ;  and  soon  the  sound  of  artillery  on  the  left  in 
the  direction  of  Culpepper  Court-House  indicated  that  General 
Lee  was  attacking  in  front. 

The  sound  speedily  began  to  recede  northward ;  the  cavalry 
in  our  front  continued  to  fall  back,  and,  reaching  a  lofty  hill  near 
Stevensburg,  we  could  see  the  infantry  column  of  Pope  rapidly 
retreating  to  the  Rappahannock. 


GLIMPSE    OF    GENERAL    EARLY.        277 

I  hastened  to  rejoin  General  Jackson,  who  was  pressing  closely 
upon  the  Federal  rear,  and  came  up  with  him  near  Hazel 
River. 

The  appearance  of  the  country  through  which  I  passed  was 
frightful.  I  had  seen  hard  fighting  up  to  this  time,  but  never 
before  fully  comprehended  the  horrors  of  war  when  conducted 
upon  the  principles  of  Attila.  The  country  was  a  desert.  On 
every  side  were  the  ruins  of  houses,  wantonly  burned  by  the 
troops  of  General  Pope  ;  the  fences  were  destroyed  ;  the  forests 
cut  down  ;  the  fields  laid  waste ;  and  this  beautiful  land,  but 
recently  a  scene  of  peace,  plenty,  and  happiness,  was  the  picture 
of  woe  and  desolation.  The  sight  of  those  ruins,  from  which 
women  and  children  had  fled  to  escape  plunder  and  insult,  gave 
me  the  heartache ;  a  weight  seemed  pressing  upon  my  breast  as 
I  passed  through  this  desolated  region.  I  felt  for  the  enemy  a 
hatred  a  thousand-fold  greater  than  any  which  could  have  been 
produced  by  blood  spilled  fairly  in  open  fight,  and  ten  thousand 
others  felt  the  same. 

Jackson  hastened  forward  to  the  Rappahannock ;  and  all  along 
that  river,  across  which  the  enemy  had  retreated,  commenced  a 
hot  artillery  engagement — the  Federal  forces  obstinately  dis- 
puting the  passage  of  the  stream.  Jackson  was  in  front,  and, 
rapidly  advancing  to  Warrenton  Springs,  threw  two  brigades 
across,  under  General  Early.  This,  I  think,  was  on  the  22d  of 
August,  and  on  the  next  day  a  violent  rain-storm  produced  such 
a  freshet  in  the  river  that  all  the  bridges  were  washed  away. 

Early's  position  was  now  extremely  critical.  The  enemy's 
main  body  was  in  his  immediate  vicinity,  and  might  attack  him 
at  any  moment. 

I  was  talking  with  General  Jackson  when  a  courier  rode 
up  with  a  message  from  Early,  that  he  could  not  hold  his  posi- 
tion. 

"  When  did  you  leave  him  ?"  asked  Jackson,  briefly. 

"About  two  hours  ago,  General.  I  had  to  go  to  the  upper1 
ford  to  cross." 

"Why  not  swim?" 

"My  horse  is  too  weak." 


278  SURRY    OF    EAGLE'S-NEST. 

"  And  you  are  going  all  the  way  around  again  ?" 

The  courier  looked  abashed. 

My  own  horse,  I  informed  the  General,  was  quite  fresh,  and  I 
would  take  his  message. 

"  Thank  you,  Major.  Tell  General  Early  that  he  must  hold 
his  position." 

"Under  any  circumstances?" 

"Yes." 

I  saluted,  and  set  out  rapidly  for  the  river.  It  was  a  perfect 
torrent;  but,  pushing  my  "Yankee  horse,"  much  against  his 
will,  into  the  current,  I  managed  to  force  him  through.  He 
scrambled  up  the  opposite  bank,  and  I  was  very  soon  in  presence 
of  General  Early.  The  person  and  character  of  this  brave  officer 
are  probably  well  known  to  most  of  my  readers.  Fancy  a  rough, 
curling  head,  a  pair  of  piercing  eyes  under  shaggy  brows,  a  cyni- 
cal smile,  a  nasal  utterance,  and  the  air  of  one  who  is  afraid  of 
nothing  upon  earth — there  is  General  Early  as  he  then  appeared. 

"How  are  you,  Major?"  said  the  General,  in  bis  peculiar 
drawl  through  the  nose.    "Any  news?" 

"None,  General." 

"  The  enemy  are  pressing  me  here.  Did  General  Jackson  re- 
ceive my  message  ?  I  sent  a  courier  three  hours  ago.  I  will 
murder  him  when  he  returns." 

"  He  received  your  message,  and  I  came  over  to  bring  the  an- 
swer.    General  Jackson  desires  you  to  hold  your  position." 

"  Can't  do  it." 

"  The  order  is  imperative,  General — to  hold  your  ground  un- 
der all  circumstances." 

Early  shook  his  head  obstinately,  and  said,  in  his  slow,  delib- 
erate voice,  with  that  indescribable  drawl  through  the  nose : 

"  I  have  reconnoitred  the  ground  in  my  front  and  flanks,  Ma- 
jor, and — I'll  he if  I  can  hold  it."  * 

The  General  smiled  cheerfully  as  he  spoke,  and  dwelt  with  evi- 
dent pleasure  and  emphasis  upon  the  words  italicized.  I  began 
to  laugh. 

*  Hii  words. 


GLIMPSE    OF    GENERAL    EARLY.        279 

"  Well,  General,  I  liave  given  you  the  order  in  General  Jack- 
eon's  very  words." 

"Oh,"  was  the  drawling  response,  "don't  give  yourself  any 
trouble,  Major,  about  that.  You  don't  understand.  I  don't 
mean  that  I  am  not  going  to   hold  this   position — I  mean  I'll 

be  if  I  can  hold  it.      Old  Jubal  can  be  cut  to  pieces 

as  well  as  any  other  man!" 

And,  uttering  a  low  chuckle,  the  General  seemed  to  contem- 
plate that  ceremony  of  being  made  mince-meat  of  with  actual 
satisfaction. 

Such  was  not,  however,  to  be  his  fate.  He  was  reserved  for 
those  hard  fights  against  the  great  odds  of  Sheridan;  and  was  to 
startle  Washington  with  the  roll  of  his  drum. 

My  horse  carried  me  back  without  accident,  and  I  found  Jack- 
son superintending  in  person  the  preparations  for  building  a 
bridge.  Heavy  details  were  already  at  work ;  the  timbers  were 
stretched  across ;  and,  just  as  the  enemy  advanced  to  throw  them- 
selves upon  Early,  his  column  defiled  across,  the  rear-guard  hotly 
engaged  with  the  Federal  advance.* 

Jackson  had  a  long  conversation  with  Early,  and  both  then 
rode  to  General  Lee's  head-quarters,  where  they  were  soon  clos- 
eted with  him.     When  Jackson  came  out,  he  said  to  me : 

"  Major,  I  wish  you  to  ride  to  General  Stuart — you  know 
where  to  find  him — give  my  compliments  to  him,  and  say  that  I 
have  had  a  consultation  with  General  Lee,  and  it,  is  of  the  utmost 
importance  that  a  reconnoissance  should  be  made  in  the  direc- 
tion of  Warrenton.  The  enemy's  force  and  movements  are  not 
known  accurately — whether  they  intend  to  fight  here  or  retreat 
further.  Explain  this  to  the  General.  If  he  can  cut  the  railroad 
in  the  enemy's  rear,  so  much  the  better.  This  might  be  done 
near  Oatlett's.     No  time  should  be  lost." 

"Any  thing  further,  General?" 

"  Nothing.     Don't  lose  time  on  the  road,  Major." 

I  went  in  the  direction  of  Stuart,  soon  found  him,  and  deliv- 
ered my  message. 

*  Historical. 


280  SURRY    OF    E  AGLE'S-NEST. 

"  Good !     I  was  thinking  of  that  very  thing." 

And  he  issued  orders  which  put  his  column  in  motion  in  ten. 
minutes. 

"  Come  on,  Surry,  and  ijine  the  cavalry' !"  said  Stuart,  laugh- 
ing; "perhaps  we  may  secure  our  revenge  for  Verdiersville." 

I  could  not  resist — something  about  Stuart  drew  me.  I  rode 
by  Jackson's  head-quarters,  obtained  his  permission,  and  set 
out  with  Stuart  on  his  raid. 


LXXIX. 

STUART   TAKES   HIS    REVENGE. 

Crossing  the  Rappahannock  above  Jeffersonton,  Stuart  pushed 
forward  with  his  column,  and,  passing  in  the  vicinity  of  Warren- 
ton,  made  for  the  Orange  and  Alexandria  Railroad,  directly  in  the 
enemy's  rear. 

By  this  time  the  sun  was  down,  and,  knowing  the  danger 
which  attends  operating  with  cavalry  by  night,  I  supposed  that 
Stuart  would  go  into  bivouac  with  his  command  and  wait  for 
daylight.     I  said  as  much,  but  he  shook  his  head. 

"Can't  afford  the  time,"  he  replied.  "It  is  hazardous  to 
move  cavalry  at  night,  but  I  must  risk  it.     Hagan ! " 

The  word  was  passed  back  to  the  escort,  and  soon  the  dark- 
bearded  giant  whom  I  had  formerly  known  in  the  Valley  rode 
forward  and  saluted.  Hagan  was  unchanged,  except  that  his 
beard  was  heavier,  his  eye  more  twinkling,  bis  huge  mustache 
more  prone  than  ever  to  curl  with  lurking  humor.  When  he 
spoke,  his  voice  was  like  the  rumble  of  winds  from  the  caverns 
of  iEolus. 

Hagan,  I  soon  learned,  was  corporal  of  the  guard — in  other 
words,  commanded  the  General's  escort.  He  recognized  me 
immediately,  and,  putting  two  fingers  to  his  hat,  exclaimed 
"Major!"  in  the  most  military  style. 

"  Hagan,"  said  the  General,   "do  you  know  this  country?" 


STUAKT    TAKES    HIS    REVENGE.        281 

"  Not  just  along  here,  General — but  I  have  got  two  men  who 
do." 

"Call  them  up." 

Hagan  turned  and  called,  in  a  thundering  voice : 

"Snakebug!" 

"Who  on  earth  is  that?"  exclaimed  Stuart,  with  a  laugh. 

"  Only  a  little  pet  name,  General." 

"Well,  call  the  other." 

Hagan  again  elevated  his  voice,  and  shouted : 

"  Moonshine  !" 

This  was  more  than  Stuart  could  stand.  He  laid  back  on  hia 
horse,  and  uttered  a  "haw,  haw  !"  which  exploded  like  a  pistol. 

"I  will  put  your  friend  Moonshine  in  front  of  my  column, 
Hagan.  He's  the  very  man  for  a  march  at  night !  He  shall 
light  the  way.     Where  is  he?" 

"  Here,  General,"  responded  Hagan  ;  and,  turning  round  with 
austere  dignity : 

"Moonshine!"  he  said. 

"Yes,  sir,"  submissively  responded  Moonshine,  a  thin  and 
wiry  individual,  with  a  hawk  nose  and  eye. 

"Snakebug!" 

"Here  we  are,  Corporal,"  came  in  gutteral  tones  from  Snake- 
bug, who  had  the  appearance  of  a  gentleman  ready  to  go  through 
fire  and  storm  for  plunder. 

"Speak  to  the  General!"  said  Hagan,  in  a  voice  of  thunder; 
and  Snakebug  and  Moonshine  rode  forward.  They  stated  that 
they  knew  the  country  perfectly ;  and,  sending  one  with  the 
advance-guard,  Stuart  kept  the  other. 

My  friend  Corporal  Hagan  had  touched  his  hat  with  that 
military  courtesy  which  characterized  him,  and  fallen  back  to 
take  command  of  his  detachment. 

Stuart  now  advanced,  without  pause,  although  the  night  had 
grown  pitch  dark,  and  the  sky  was  overclouded.  Soon  some 
rain-drops  began  to  fall. 

"  That's  bad,"  he  muttered.     "  I  must  hurry  up  here,  or  the 
streams  in  the  rear  will  be  so  swollen  as  to  prevent  my  return." 
"  Where  are  we  now,  General  ?" 


282  SURRY    OF    E AGLE'S-NEST. 

He  called  to  Moonshine,  who  reported  that  they  were  then 
within  about  two  miles  of  Catlett's  Station. 

"I'll  go  there  to-night,  at  all  events,"  said  the  General; 
"  move  on  with  the  column." 

We  now  advanced  in  silence,  through  the  black  darkness, 
under  a  heavy  drizzle,  which  was  rapidly  changing  into  a  regular 
rain-storm.  It  was  impossible  to  see  three  feet  ahead  ;  and  the 
idea  of  charging  headlong  over  broken  and  unknown  ground, 
upon  an  enemy  whose  position  was  unknown,  did  not  suggest 
the  most  pleasing  ideas. 

But  Stuart  seemed  to  have  no  doubt  of  the  result.  He  was  as 
gay  and  cheerful  as  ever ;  and,  taking  the  head  of  the  column, 
advanced  through  the  black  darkness,  at  a  rapid  trot,  straight 
toward  Oatlett's. 

"Now  for  it,  Surry!"  he  said,  with  animation,  as  we  came  in 
sight  of  glimmering  lights;  "out  with  your  sabre,  and  I'll  lead 
the  way!"  ' 

"  Where !"  was  my  response  to  the  unseen  voice. 

"  Right  into  the  enemy  !" 

"  All  right,  General;  but  I'm  getting  horribly  demoralized." 

"At  what?" 

*'  For  fear  I  shall  be  charged  by  some  gigantic  limb  on  these 
trees,  and  ignobly  unhorsed  in  the  very  beginning." 

Stuart  laughed. 

"  Shut  your  eyes,  and  trust  to  luck !     Yonder  they  are !" 

At  that  moment  a  scout  hurried  up,  and  Stuart  recognized  his 
voice. 

"Well!"  he  exclaimed,  "here  I  am,  Stringfellow !  What 
intelligence?" 

"  You  are  within  eight  hundred  yards  of  Pope's  head-quarters, 
General." 

Stuart  uttered  an  exclamation. 

"Press  on  with  the  column  !"  was  his  loud  order.  The  olatter 
>f  hoofs  redoubled.  Then  quick  firing  was  heard  from  the 
advance-guard,  and  the  flash  of  carbines  shone  in  the  dark- 
ness. 

"Forward!"  cried  the  General,  drawing  his  sabre. 


STUART    TAKES    HIS    REVENGE.        283 

Bang!  bang!  bang!  was  heard  from  the  advance-guard. 
They  were  driving  in  the  picket. 

Then  a  loud  cheer  arose  in  front. 

"Draw  sabres! — charge!"  came  in  a  ringing  shout  from 
Stuart ;  and,  digging  the  spur  into  his  horse,  he  went  at  a  head- 
long gallop  straight  down  the  road,  followed  by  his  column. 

"We  were  approaching  the  railroad,  and  the  ground  became 
broken,  intersected  with  ravines,  and  almost  impassable.  Worse 
than  all,  the  obstacles  were  invisible.  I  only  knew  by  the  quick 
leaps  of  my  horse  what  we  were  passing  over.  On  came  the 
column  behind ;  and  suddenly  I  heard  exclamations,  a  heavy 
"  thud  "  or  two,  and  the  clatter  of  accoutrements.  More  than 
one  horse  and  rider  had  "gone  under,"  and  were  rolling  in  the 
ditch.  The  rest,  however,  pressed  on — a  sudden  volley  was  fired 
in  our  faces — then  we  were  at  the  tents,  from  which  the  Federal 
officers  ran  in  their  night-clothes.  , 

The  scene  was  animated.  The  fight  had  commenced,  and  the 
whole  locality  was  one  maze  of  quick  flashes,  accompanied  by 
the  sharp  crack  of  carbines. 

The  men  charged  straight  forward  on  the  railroad  ;  drove  the 
Federal  forces  beyond  it ;  and  quickly  set  to  work  to  tear  up  every 
thing,  and  destroy  the  bridge  near  by. 

In  this  latter  attempt  they  were  unsuccessful,  the  rain  having 
wetted  the  timbers  to  such  a  degree  as  to  prevent  them  from 
kindling.  As  the  light  revealed  the  forms  of  the  men,  destruc- 
tive volleys  were  poured  into  them  from  the  darkness. 

I  went  to  witness  the  bridge  burning,  but  soon  galloped  back 
to  Stuart,  who  was  in  the  midst  of  the  fire,  cheering  on  the 
men.  Suddenly  an  officer  rode  up  to  him,  said  something,  and  I 
heard  that  quick,  animated  response  which  always  indicated  in- 
tense satisfaction  with  the  General.  He  galloped  to  a  tent  at 
some  distance — and  I  saw  at  once  that  it  was  the  adjutant- 
general's.  It  contained  all  the  "official  papers"  of  the  Federal 
army ! — and  near  at  hand,  in  another  tent,  was  General  Pope's 
coat,  with  its  badge  of  rank,  hastily  left  by  him  in  his  flight.* 

*  Historical. 


284  SURRY    OF    EAGLE'S-NEST. 

As  Stuart  held  it  up  to  the  light,  he  burst  into  a  laugh,  and 
exclaimed : 

"  Here  is  my  revenge  for  losing  my  hat  and  cape  at  Verdi  ers- 
ville!" 

The  important  official  documents  were  at  once  secured,  and 
having  accomplished  this,  so  much  more  than  he  expected,  Stuart 
ordered  tho  pursuit  of  the  scattered  enemy  to  cease,  and  his 
command  to  fall  into  column. 

Ere  long,  they  were  rapidly  retiring  over  the  same  road  by 
which  they  had  come,  to  regain  the  Southern  lines  before  the 
waters  rose  in  their  rear. 

"Well,  Surry!"  exclaimed  the  General,  as  we  rode  along, 
"what  do  you  think  of  your  raid?" 

"  I  like  it,  General."  " 

"  It  is  more  than  a  success — far  more.  Do  you  know  what  we 
found  yonder?  Those  papers  are  a  complete  expose  of  Pope's 
strength,  position,  expectations,  and  designs.  He  writes  that 
without  Burnside  he  can't  hold  his  ground,  and  must  retreat 
from  Virginia!  We  know  his  whole  hand  now,  and  can  play 
our  cards  to  suit  it!" 

"Then  you  have  completely  blocked  his  game." 

"It  looks  like  it — to  say  nothing  of  capturing  the  General 
commanding's  coat !     Ha!  ha!" 

And  Stuart  laughed  with  the  keenest  enjoyment. 

On  tho  next  morning  we  had  re-entered  the  Southern  lines, 
and  General  Lee  had  the  captured  papers.  A  few  hours  after- 
ward Jackson  ordered  three  days'  rations  to  be  issued,  and  his 
men  to  be  gotten  under  arms. 


LXXX. 

FLANKING    POPE. 

Thb  long  glittering  column  was  drawn  up,  ready  to  march. 
The  clothes  of  the  men  were  in  rags,  and  their  feet  bare ;  but 
their  faces  were  laughing  and  their  bayonets  bright. 


FLANKING    POPE.  285 

I  rode  along  the  column,  and  heard  upon  all  sides — who  can 
tell  whence  the  information  came  ? — "  Old  Jack  is  goin'  to  flank 
'em!" 

That  was  the  exact  truth.  Jackson  left  the  vicinity  of  War- 
renton  Springs,  ascended  the  left  bank  of  the  Rappahannock, 
passed  Amissville,  and,  crossing  at  the  narrow,  rock-bound,  and 
forgotten  ford  at  Hinson's  Mill,  dragged  his  artillery  up  the  op- 
posite acclivity,  and  pushed  on  to  the  little  village  of  Orleans. 

Stuart's  cavalry,  except  one  regiment  in  front,  moved  on  the 
right  of  this  column,  between  it  and  the  enemy,  keeping  off  their 
scouting  parties ;  and,  leaving  the  high  road  to  Barbee's,  Jack- 
son struck  into  the  fields,  pressing  forward  through  farm  gates, 
and  along  obscure  country  roads,  toward  Salem. 

The  people  greeted  the  sight  of  the  gray  coats  with  perfect 
amazement.  But  it  was  a  joyful  surprise.  They  ran  to  their 
doors,  full- handed,  to  welcome  and  feed  the  weary  troops — on 
all  sides  were  heard  joyous  exclamations — and  so  the  column 
pushed  on,  weary  but  laughing,  toward  Thoroughfare  Gap.  If 
it  could  only  reach  and  pass  through  that  frowning  defile  before 
the  enemy  were  aware  of  the  intention,  the  great  depot  of  stores, 
at  Manassas,  would  be  at  Jackson's  mercy. 

At  sunset  Jackson  sat  his  horse,  looking  at  the  column  as  it 
defiled  before  him.  He  had  issued  orders  that  the  men  were  not 
to  cheer,  for  fear  of  attracting  the  enemy's  attention,  and  the 
troops,  as  they  passed  before  him,  only  took  off  their  ragged  old 
hats  and  waved  them  round  their  heads.  This  silent  greeting 
seemed  to  touch  Jackson  greatly.  The  setting  sun  shone  on  his 
face,  and  the  countenance  at  that  moment  was  resplendent. 
There  was  something  proud  and  yet  gentle  in  the  brilliant  eye, 
the  expression  of  the  lips,  and  the  air  of  the  man,  as,  sitting  his 
old  sorrel  in  the  yellow  light,  he  gazed  from  beneath  his  dingy 
cap — chin  in  air — upon  his  followers. 

All  at  once  a  single  cheer  rose;  and  the  effect  was  electric. 
It  ran  along  the  line ;  the  air  was  split  by  a  great  shout ;  the  long 
pent-up  feelings  of  the  troops  had  burst  forth. 

Jackson's  face  glowed;  he  raised  his  cap  in  response,  and 
the   cheers  redoubled.      The  men  whirled  their   old   felt  hats 


286  SURRY    OF   E AGLE'S-NEST. 

around  their  heads  with  wild  enthusiasm.     With  sparkling  eyes, 
and  rising  in  his  stirrups  as  he  spoke,  Jackson  said  : 
"  "  Who  could  help  being  proud  of  such  men  as  these?" 

And,  touching  his  horse  with  the  spur,  he  galloped  on  to  the 
front,  still  pursued  by  the  tumultuous  cheering. 

The  exhausted  troops  were  now  halted  near  Salem,  for  food 
and  sleep ;  and  knowing  that  the  column  would  move  at  the  ear- 
liest dawn,  every  man  lay  down,  with  his  musket  at  his  side, 
ready  to  respond  to  the  order  at  a  moment's  warning. 

I  did  not  lie  down  ;  and  now  beg  that  the  reader  will  accom- 
pany me  on  a  short  ride  I  took. 


LXXXI. 

I  CHASE  AND  COME  UP  WITH  A  FEDERAL  OFFICER. 

The  object  of  my  night-ride  is  probably  no  mystery  to  the 
reader.  Salem  was  near  White  Plains ;  and  near  White  Plains 
was  "Elm  Cottage." 

I  had  determined  to  go  and  reconnoitre  in  that  direction,  in 
spite  of  the  Federal  cavalry  in  our  front.  Many  things  induced 
me  to  visit  the  cottage.  Was  Violet  Grafton  still  there  ?  Had 
Fenwick  again  been  lurking  around  the  place?  I  say  again,  for, 
in  his  night  interview  with  Mrs.  Parkins,  he  had  spoken  of  his 
reception  by  Violet.  Had  Mrs.  Fitzhugh  heard  from  May  Bever- 
ley ?  It  was  that  last  question  which,  despite  my  fatigue,  made 
me  get  into  the  saddle. 

The  ember  was  not  cold.  It  flamed  again  at  a  breath.  Do 
you  laugh,  good  reader,  at  the  love-sick  condition  of  the  unfor- 
tunate Surry,  pining,  with  a  hopeless  attachment,  for  a  woman 
who  was  to  be  the  wife  of  another?  Alas !  love  laughs  at  logi« 
as  well  as  locksmiths — and,  though  I  have  not  insisted  upon 
speaking  incessantly  of  Miss  May  Beverley,  she  had  occupied  my 
thoughts  on  many  battle-fields,  and  bent  over  me,  beautiful  and 
smiling,  as  I  fell  asleep  by  numerous  camp-fires  !  Such  things,  I 
know,  never  ooour  in  the  lives  of  other  men — and  of  you,  belovefi 


I    CHASE    A    FEDERAL    OFFICER.       287 

reader,  this  fable  has  never  been  narrated.  But  ao  it  was.  I 
tried  to  cease  the  immoral  proceeding ;  but  I  was  in  love  with 
my  neighbor  Baskerville's  wife — I  coveted  the  property  of  that 
paladin  and  flower  of  chivalry,  as  much  as  ever ! 

So  I  went  to  find  whether  Mrs.  Fitzhugh  had  heard  from  her, 
and  incidentally  to  see  Violet  Grafton  and  the  rest. 

The  infantry  picket  halted  me,  but,  upon  giving  my  name  to 
the  officer,  I  was  allowed  to  pass.  The  same  occurred  when  I 
came  to  the  exterior  picket  of  cavalry,  and  I  rode  on  through  the 
darkness.  For  half  an  hour,  no  sound  broke  the  deep  stillness. 
The  enemy's  scouts,  I  suspected,  were  prowling  around,  but  none 
made  their  appearance — and  ere  long  I  came  in  sight  of  the 
clump  of  trees  embowering  Elm  Cottage. 

From  a  distance  came  the  glimmer  of  a  cheerful  light ;  and, 
pressing  forward,  I  had  reached  the  outer  gate,  when  the  neigh 
of  a  horse  was  heard  near  the  house.  My  own  horse  neighed  in 
reply  ;  and  I  was  galloping  along  the  winding  avenue,  when,  all 
at  once,  the  door  opened,  a  flood  of  light  poured  through  it,  and 
I  recognized  the  blue  uniform  of  an  officer  of  the  U.  S.  Army. 

He  had  taken  two  rapid  steps  toward  his  horse,  when  I  or- 
dered him  to  halt  and  surrender. 

His  reply  was  a  loud  laugh,  which  I  distinctly  heard ;  and, 
turning  to  utter  a  few  hasty  words  to  some  ladies  behind  him, 
he  ran  to  his  horse. 

As  he  mounted  I  fired  upon  him,  but  did  not  strike  him.  A 
second  laugh  greeted  the  shot ;  and,  clearing  the  low  fence,  the 
officer  darted  off. 

I  followed,  and  pursued  at  full  speed,  ordering  him  to  halt  or 
I  would  kill  him.  His  horse  was  fleeter  than  my  own,  and  the 
distance  between  us  was  increasing  ;  but  suddenly  my  challenge 
seemed  to  produce  the  desired  effect.  He  drew  rein — I  ap- 
proached at  full  speed — and,  lovelling  my  pistol  at  his  head,  said : 

''  You  are  my  prisoner !" 

A  third  burst  of  laughter  greeted  me;  the  figure  held  out  hi* 
hand ;  and  I  heard,  in  the  familiar  voice  of  "Will  Surry  : 

"  How  are  you,  brother  1" 

"Will!"  I  exclaimed. 


288  SURRY    OF    E  AGLE'S-NEST. 

"  Certainly  it  is  Will,  and  you  have  given  me  a  devil  of  a 
chase!"  responded  the  boy ;  "to  say  nothing  of  that  shot,  which 
has  spoiled  my  very  best  coat:" 

And,  with  a  gay  laugh,  the  Bpeaker  showed  me  the  collar  of 
his  uniform  coat,  which  was  pierced  by  a  bullet. 

"  Good  God! — this  miserable  war  !"  I  could  not  forbear  from 
exclaiming.    "  Brother  taking  the  life  of  brother !" 

"  Not  at  all !  I  never  felt  better  in  my  life ;  and  my  horse, 
too,  is  unhurt.  I  could  easily  have  gotten  off;  but  I  recog- 
nized your  voice,  and  stopped,  to  hear  the  news  from  home, 
brother." 

These  words  were  an  inexpressible  relief  to  me.  Then  Will 
was  not  my  prisoner — he  had  voluntarily  stopped,  and  I  was  not 
bound,  in  honor,  to  regard  him  as  a  captured  officer. 

In  a  moment  we  had  dismounted,  thrown  ourselves  upon  the 
grass  by  the  road-side,  in  the  light  of  the  rising  moon,  and  I  was 
answering  the  boy's  ardent  questions.  They  were  all  about 
home. 

"  And  so  the  dear  old  gentleman  is  well.  And  how  is  Annie — 
my  little  pet?" 

"Perfectly  well." 

"  And  old  Carlo  !  Does  he  hunt  now  ?  How  are  the  ducks 
on  the  river?  And  what's  become  of  Jenny  Clayton — at  the 
North  still  ?  Pshaw !  why  ain't  she  at  home  ?  Brother,  there's 
no  place  in  the  world  like  Old  Virginia — it's  the  best  of  lands, 
and  Eagle's- Nest  is  the  best  place  in  it!" 

I  could  make  no  reply.  There  was  something  inexpressibly 
sad  to  me  in  these  questions,  from  an  officer  of  the  U.  S.  Army. 

"  I  see  what  you  are  thinking  of,"  said  the  boy,  with  a  cloud 
upon  his  brow.  "  I  am  an  enemy — fighting  against  you.  Well, 
so  I  am — but  I  can't  help  it,  brother !  I  thought  Virginia  would 
not  secede,  and  held  on  to  my  commission  until  the  fighting 
commenced — and  then  I  thought  it  my  duty  to  stay  in  the  army. 
The  devil  of  it  is,"  ho  added,  with  a  quick  sigh,  "that  I  can't 
help  wishing  the  South  would  whip !  But  I'm  going  on  'fight- 
ing for  the  old  flag' — that's  a  glorious  sentiment — eh?" 

He  remained  for  a  moment  silent  and  gloomy. 


I    CHASE    A    FEDERAL    OFFICER.        289 

"And  to-night,"  he  said,  in  a  low  tone,  "suppose  you  had 
killed  me?  I  wouldn't  have  cared,  but  you  know  it  would haye 
broken  your  heart." 

"Indeed  it  would,  Will." 

"I  say,  brother,"  he  said,  resuming  his  good  spirits,  "don't 
let  us  shoot  at  each  other  hereafter !  War  is  my  trade,  but  I 
am  not  bound  to  kill  you;  and  as  to  your  shooting  me,  that 
would  be  remarkably  inconvenient  just  at  this  time." 

I  could  not  help  catching  the  contagion  of  the  boy's  light- 
heartedness,  and  gliding  to  more  pleasant  themes. 

"  The  fact  is,  brother,"  he  said,  "  I'm  dead  in  love  with  a  little 
girl  not  a  hundred  miles  from  this  place,  and  being  killed  would 
seriously  interfere  with  my  arrangements." 

"You  mean  Henrietta  Fitzhugh?" 

"  How  in  the  world  did  you  know  it  ?" 

I  told  him  the  history  of  his  letter,  and  he  said : 

"  So  poor  Tom  Govran  is  wounded  or  killed.  Sorry  for  him ! 
And  you've  got  my  letter  ?" 

"  In  my  valise." 

"And  know  all  about  my  'flame,'  as  the  poets  say!  But 
brother,  she's  a  regular  tartar,  and  will  scarcely  speak  to  me. 
I  had  just  '  dropped '  in  when  I  heard  your  horse  neigh,  and 
thought  you  were  a  whole  squadron,  or  I  wouldn't  have  run  so. 
But  here  I  am  running  on  about  trifles.  Tell  me  all  about  dear 
old  Eagle's-Nest,  and  your  own  adventures  ?  Did  you  get  over 
your  wound  soon  ?  Is  the  old  place  changed  ?  What  does  our 
old  mammy  say  about  the  war  ?  Does  Annie  '  love  me  as 
before  ?'  " 

And  the  boy  ran  on  in  a  perfect  torrent  of  questions — all  now 
about  '  the  old  folks  at  home.'  I  replied  to  all — and  eo  we 
conversed  for  more  than  an  hour.  Under  the  great  oak  beneath 
which  we  had  thrown  ourselves,  two  brothers  were  talking  of 
home ;  the  gray  and  blue  coats  made  no  difference — the  hearts 
which  they  covered  beat  close  together.  On  the  heaving  arena 
of  war  they  had  found  this  little  spot  of  firm  soil  to  stand 
upon  and  greet  each  other  as  they  were  borne  along. 

We  were  talking  still  when  shots  were  heard  upon  the  right, 
13 


290  SURRY    OP   EAGLE'S-NEST. 

at  the  di3tanoe  of  about  half  a  mile ;  and  "Will  rose  to  his  feet 
There  were  tears  in  his  eyes,  as  he  said : 

"  My  company  is  yonder !     I  must  go  there." 

"Good-by,  Will." 

"Good-by,  brother!" 

A  close  pressure  of  the  hand — and  in  a  moment  he  had 
disappeared. 


LXXXII. 

VIOLET  GRAFTON'S  SECRET. 

I  rode  back  toward  Elm  Cottage,  but  was  not  destined  to 
arrive  as  soon  as  I  expected. 

My  horse  had  scarcely  brought  me  again  in  sight  of  the 
house,  when  I  saw  a  figure  standing  in  the  road  before  me,  and, 
drawing  nearer,  recognized  Violet  Grafton. 

In  a  moment  I  had  dismounted,  and  we  had  exchanged  a  cor- 
dial greeting.  By  the  light  of  the  moon,  which  had  now  fully 
risen,  I  could  make  out  every  feature  and  expression  of  the 
charming  face — the  large  blue  eyes,  with  their  mild  and  tranquil 
splendor,  the  innocent  mouth,  the  cheeks  upon  which  two  blush- 
roses  seemed  blooming,  and  the  broad  fair  brow,  upon  each  side 
of  which  fell  those  closely  curled  ringlets  of  bright  golden  hair. 
She  was  very  simply  clad,  but  her  figure  was  exquisitely  grace- 
ful, with  the  light  shawl  drooping  from  the  shoulders. 

"I  recognized  you  as  you  followed  Lieutenant  Surry,"  she 
said  in  her  calm  sweet  voice. 

"  He  is  my  brother ;  we  have  been  talking  for  an  hour." 

And  I  related  every  thing. 

"  This  terrible  war !"  she  said  with  a  sigh.  "  Oh,  when  will  it 
end  ?  I  am  "in  fear  and  trembling  for  my  friends  in  the  army, 
all  the  time." 

"Perhaps  I  can  give  you  news  of  some  of  them,"  I  said. 

"  I  have  very  few,"  was  her  reply,  accompanied  by  a  quick 
look  toward  me,  which  I  did  not  understand.  I  thought  she  was 
about  to  add  something,  but  she  only  colored  slightly. 


VIOLET  GRAFTON'S  SECRET.    29} 

All  at  once,  I  know  not  why,  I  thought  of  the  night  ride  of  the 
young  lady  with  Mordaunt,  hefore  the  battle  of  Manassas,  and 
said: 

"  You  remember  Colonel  Mordaunt,  do  you  not?" 

I  was  startled  by  the  effect  which  my  words  produced.  Her 
head  turned  quickly,  and  I  could  see  her  become  suddenly  pale. 

"Has  any  thing  happened  to  him!"  she  exclaimed  in  a  quick, 
agitated  voice.  "  He  is  not  wounded!" —  I  saw  that  she  had 
not  strength  to  add,  "or  dead."  Her  eyes  dwelt,  with  an  ex- 
pression of  agony  almost,  upon  my  face.  That  look  revealed  the 
secret  of  Violet  Grafton. 

"  He  is  perfectly  well,"  was  my  reply. 

She  drew  a  long  breath — her  bosom  heaved. 

"I  am  very  glad,"  she  murmured,  rapidly  regaining  her  calm- 
ness. "  I  heard  something  of  a  battle  on  the  Rapidan,  in  which 
his  regiment  was  engaged." 

"  The  report  was  correct.  Mordaunt  made  a  splendid  charge 
in  the  action,  but  came  out  of  it  entirely  unhurt." 

She  inclined  her  head,  and  we  walked  on  toward  tho  cot- 
tage. 

'My  interest  in  Colonel  Mordaunt,  perhaps,  surprises  you," 
she  said  in  an  instant;  "but  we  became  very  good  friends  on 
that  night  ride  from  Manassas,  before  the  battle." 

"Is  it  possible?  Mordaunt  is  the  coldest  of  the  cold  toward 
your  sex." 

"Yes,  that  is  true." 

I  hesitated  for  a  moment,  and  then  said : 

"  Did  you  give  him  his  package  ?  Do  not  think  rac  a  prying 
person,  Miss  Grafton.  I  chance  to  know  that  those  letters  were 
written  by  his  wife." 

And  I  went  on  to  speak  of  some  portions  of  the  narrative 
which  I  had  heard  from  the  lips  of  Fenwick. 

"  I  see  that  you  know  every  thing — even  more  than  myself," 
was  her  low  reply ;  "  but  you  are  in  error  upon  one  point.  That 
package  did  not  contain  letters,  but  a  regular  journal,  written  by 
my  poor  cousin  from  day  to  day — from  the  moment  that  sha 
left  home  until  the  time  when  6he  became  insane." 


292  SURRY  OF  EAGLE'S-NEST. 

"And  from  those  papers  Mordaunt  knew  all." 

She  gently  inclined  her  bead,  and  I  walked  on  in  silence.  I 
had  then  been  instrumental  in  convincing  Mordaunt  of  his  wife's 
fidelity  and  devotion.  The  contents  of  that  package  had  lifted 
from  his  life,  to  some  extent  at  least,  the  deep  shadow  of  misery 
which  rendered  the  whole  female  sex  abhorrent  to  him.  He 
knew,  from  that  journal  of  the  poor  dead  woman,  that  she  had 
loved  him  to  the  last — that  he  was  still  her  '  darling.'  To  a 
man  like  Mordaunt,  writhing  under  a  sense  of  shame,  this  con- 
viction, I  felt,  must  be  an  inexpressible  relief. 

"It is  a  happiness  to  me,  Miss  Grafton,"  I  said  at  length,  "to 
know  that  Colonel  Mordaunt  has  thus  been  enlightened  in  re- 
gard to  this  horrible  mystery.  I  will  add  that  he  is  fortunate 
too — solitary  and  unhappy  as  he  may  be — in  securing  your 
friendship." 

"  Oh!  that  is  nothing — he  is  very  noble!" 

And  the  telltale  cheek  again  glowed. 

"  You  cannot  like  hira  more  than  I  do,"  was  my  reply ;  "  he  i9 
the  soul  of  honor,  and  is  noted  throughout  the  army  for  his 
reckless  courage.  He  is  not  far  off  now,  and  perhaps  may  have 
time  to  call  and  see  you." 

I  had  scarcely  uttered  the  words  when  hoof- strokes  were 
heard  upon  the  road,  and  a  horseman,  followed  a  few  paces  in 
rear  by  another,  was  seen  approaching.  In  the  foremost  I 
recognized  Mordaunt — in  the  latter,  his  Moorish  servant,  Achmed. 

Mordaunt  recognized  us  in  an  instant,  and  bowed  to  Miss 
Grafton  with  an  air  of  cold,  proud  courtesy.  Then  dismounting, 
he  calmly  held  out  his  hand  to  me,  and  said : 

"  You  don't  seem  to  be  afraid  of  capture,  Major.  Do  you 
know  that  you  are  outside  my  picket,  and  very  near  the 
enemy?" 

"I  supposed  so,"  was  my  laughing  reply;  "but  if  Colonel 
Mordaunt  can  risk  it,  I  can." 

"  I  shall  be  busy  to-morrow,  and  came  to  see  my  friends  here 
for  a  moment." 

And  bowing  again  to  the  young  lady  he  walked  on — Achmed 
having  taken  his  horse. 


MISS    HENRIETTA   CONFUSES    ME.     293 

There  was  a  happy  light  in  Violet  Grafton's  eyes,  which  no 
longer  left  me  in  any  doubt — and  I  sighed.  What  evil  for- 
tune had  made  this  girl  of  such  exquisite  nature  place  her  affec- 
tions upon  that  marble  statue?  It  was  spring-rose  and  icicle, 
sunshine  and  snow.     Would  the  snow  ever  melt? 

I  was  asking  myself  that  question,  when  Violet  Grafton 
dropped  her  handkerchief.  Before  Mordaunt  or  myself  could 
pick  it  up,  Achined,  the  young  Moor,  had  bounded  to  the  spot, 
lifted  it  from  the  ground,  and  pressed  it  to  his  lips  with  a  pas- 
sionate gesture,  which  betrayed  his  warm  Eastern  blood. 

As  he  did  so,  his  face  became  crimson,  his  sparkling  eyes  sank 
before  the  cold  look  of  Mordaunt,  and,  with  head  bowed  sub- 
missively on  his  breast,  he  approached  Miss  Grafton,  knelt  upon 
one  knee,  and,  with  the  air  of  a  slave  in  presence  of  his  mistress, 
presented  the  handkerchief.  As  she  took  it,  his  forehead  sank 
lower,  he  crossed  both  hands  upon  his  breast,  and  remained 
thus  with  abased  eyes,  until  the  young  lady  passed.  He  did 
not  see,  or  dared  not  take  the  hand  which  she  held  out  to  him. 

"  He  is  asking  you  to  pardon  his  presumption  in  pressing  your 
handkerchief  to  his  lips,"  said  Mordaunt,  coolly  ;  "the  boy  is  the 
creature  of  impulse." 

And  they  walked  on.  Before  reaching  the  house,  however,  I 
thought  I  could  see  in  the  face  of  the  young  Moor,  who  now 
gravely  followed,  an  expression  which  accounted  for  that  sudden 
act.  Had  I  discovered,  in  one  evening,  a  double  secret  ?  Had 
Achmed  ever  seen  the  young  lady  before? — and  what  was  the 
meaning  of  that  passionate  glance  ? 

And  Mordaunt?     That  mask  of  ice  showed  nothing. 


LXXXIII. 

I  AM   THROWN    INTO   CONFUSION    BY    MISS    HENRIETTA 

On  the  trellised  porch  we  met  Mrs.  Fitzhugh  and  her  gay 
niece,  Miss  Henrietta,  who  uttered  many  exclamations  at  my  ap- 
pearance.    I  merely  said  that  my  chase  had  resulted  in  nothing, 


294:  SURRY  OF  E  AGLE'6-NEST. 

and  no  further  allusion  was  made  to  the  visit  of  Lieutenant  "Will 
Surry. 

The  excellent  old  lady  led  the  way  into  the  house,  and  insisted 
upon  giving  me  a  good  supper.  Mordaunt  had  supped,  he  said, 
and  he  and  Miss  Grafton  remained  upon  the  porch,  conversing 
in  the  light  of  the  6plendid  August  moon.  The  Moor  remained 
in  charge  of  the  horses — but  I  could  see  that  his  dark  eyes  were 
fixed  upon  Miss  Grafton. 

During  the  meal,  which  was  a  marvellous  and  exciting 
spectacle  to  the  eyes  of  a  hungry  soldier,  I  was  amused  by  the 
gay  sallies  of  Miss  Henrietta,  and  the  delightfully  plain-spoken 
views  of  Mrs.  Fitzhugh.  I  have  stated,  on  a  former  page,  that 
the  excellent  old  dame  had  the  habit  of  saying  exactly  what  she 
thought  upon  every  subject.  If  6he  did  not  like  anybody,  she 
was  very  apt  to  say  so,  and  give  the  grounds  of  her  opinion.  I 
soon  found  that  she  did  not  like  Captain  Baskerville — upon 
whom  the  conversation  soon  chanced  to  turn. 

Here  is  how  that  happened : 

SuEiiT,  with  his  mouth  full:  "Have  you  heard  from  the  Oak 
lately,  Mrs.  Fitzhugh?" 

Mrs.  FiTznuGn,  lusily  knitting  hy  thefre,  while  Miss  Henri- 
etta pours  out :  "  Several  times,  and  all  are  well  but  May.  I 
believe  she  is  pining  away  at  the  idea  of  marrying  that  Captain 
Baskerville.  They  are  engaged,  but  May  can't  bear  him — and 
her  opinion  of  him  is  perfectly  just." 

Surry,  with  deference  and  interest:  "Her  opinion  of  Captain 
Baskerville,  madam  V 

Mrs.  Fitzhugh,  knitting  more  busily  ;  Yes,  she  has  not  a  par- 
ticle of  respect  for  him,  my  dear.  I  forget,  you  are  not  one  of 
my  nephews.  May  can't  respect  Captain  Baskerville,  and  she 
can't  bear  the  idea  of  marrying  him.  As  sure  as  you  sit  there, 
Mr.  Surry,  that  man  is  a  mean  person.  I  never  was  mistaken  in 
a  human  face,  and  I  know  Frederick  Baskerville  besides.  He 
always  has  been  mean.  He  would  sell  his  soul  for  money,  and  he 
don't  care  a  rush  for  May  Beverley  or  any  one  else,  for  them- 
selves." 

Surry  :  "  You  surprise  me,  Mrs.  Fitzhugh  I     I  thought  Cap- 


MISS    HENRIETTA  CONFUSES    ME.    295 
tain   Baskerville  was  rich,   and  Miss  Beverley  by  no  means 

80." 

Mrs.  Fitzhtjgh  :  "  Yes,  he  is  rich,  but  so  is  May.  Her  uncle, 
an  old  bachelor,  who  was  very  fond  of  her,  by  his  will,  when 
she  was  fourteen,  left  her  at  least  one  hundred  servants ;  and,  as 
sure  as  you  are  sitting  there,  that  is  what  Frederick  Baskerville 
is  marrying  her  for.  His  property  is  almost  entirely  in  land, 
aud  he  wants  servants.  May  is  a  fine-looking  girl — we  are  of 
very  good  family — and  Frederick  Baskerville  thinks  that  alto- 
gether, with  the  hundred  servants,  it  is,  to  speak  vulgarly,  a 
good  speculation." 

Surry  :  "  Can  Miss  May  Beverley  suspect  this  motive  ?" 

Mrs.  FiTznuGii:  "I  believe  she  does,  but  she  knows  Fred- 
erick Baskerville,  and  can't  bear  him.  It  is  wicked  in  my 
brother  to  insist  upon  the  marriage  upon  that  trumpery  idea 
that  he  is  bound  by  his  word  to  the  elder  Baskerville.  As  sure 
as  fate,  Captain  Baskerville — I'd  like  to  know  where  he  got  his 
title — will  make  May  Beverley  wretched ;  for  he  is  mean,  my 
dear— excuse  me — and  not  what  we  old  people  call  a  gentle- 
man." 

I  need  not  say  that  the  reasoning  of  this  excellent  lady  ap- 
peared to  me  irresistible.  I  had  never  listened  to  a  train  of 
argument  which  impressed  me  as  more  brilliant  and  conclusive. 
Perhaps  this  arose  from  the  fact  that  our  views  upon  the  subject 
of  Captain  Baskerville  exactly  coincided. 

I  was  indulging  these  reflections  when  Miss  Henrietta,  that  mis- 
chievous young  damsel,  burst  into  a  ringing  laugh,  and  cried  : 

"  Aunty !  you  don't  know  how  you  are  delighting  Major 
Surry!" 

"I?     How,  my  dear?" 

"  Why,  he  is  in  love  with  cousin  May!" 

Surry  feels  a  profound  conviction  that  he  is  blushing  violently. 

"  Just  look  at  him ! "  exclaimed  the  young  witch ;  "he  is  color- 
ing like  a  girl  when  she  is  courted." 

I  tried  to  laugh. 

"  How  do  you  know  how  they  feel  under  those  circumstances, 
mademoiselle,  at  sweet  sixteen!" 


296  SURRY    OF   EAGLE'S-NEST. 

"I  know  well  enough!"  replied  Miss  Henrietta  with  great 
candor. 

Mrs.  Fitzlmgh  had  looked  up.  She  now  smoothed  the  heel 
of  the  stocking  she  was  knitting  upon  her  knee,  and  said  with 
perfect  quietness : 

"  I  wish  May  would  marry  you,  Mr.  Surry.  Why  don't  you 
ask  her?  Your  family  is  very  good — like  ours — and  we  should 
not  have  a  Baskerville  connection." 

To  these  excessively  plain  words  I  could  find  nothing  to  reply, 
and  only  attempted  a  laugh.  Mis9  Henrietta's  gay  voice  came 
to  my  relief,  and  I  rose  from  table. 

"  I  am  sorry  I  teased  you  !"  whispered  Miss  Henrietta. 

"  You  ought  to  he." 

"  Why  don't  you  take  aunt's  advice,  and  court  cousin  May?" 

u  Absurd  ;  she  cares  nothing  for  me." 

Miss  Henrietta  looked  at  me  intently,  and  said  in  a  low  tone : 

"  Must  /offer  you  some  advice?" 

"  If  you  please." 

"Ask  cousin  May,"  she  whispered,  "if  she  doesn't  care  for 
you  ;  and  you  will  then  find  one  reason  why  she  doesn't  want  to 
marry  Captain  Baskerville!" 

There  was  a  whole  volume  of  meaning  in  the  audacious  smile, 
and  again  I  felt  that  disagreeable  sensation  in  the  cheeks  which 
I  am  informed  proceeds  from  the  act  of  blushing. 

Violet  Grafton  and  Mordaunt,  however,  entered  at  this 
moment,  and  a  diversion  took  place.  There  was  nothing  what- 
ever in  Miss  Grafton's  countenance  to  6how  that  her  conver- 
sation with  Mordaunt  had  been  anything  more  than  that  of 
one  friend  with  another ;  her  face  was  perfectly  tranquil  and 
happy. 

Mordaunt  took  his  seat  by  Mrs.  Fitzhugh,  and  they  conversed 
for  a  quarter  of  an  hour.  He  then  rose,  and  said  he  must 
return  to  camp.  As  he  bowed  and  turned  away,  I  heard  the  old 
lady  say : 

"Violet,  my  dear,  your  friend,  Mr.  Mordaunt,  is  a  very  fine 
gentleman  indeed.     His  family  must  be  very  good — like  ours." 

I  laughed,  and,  informing  Mordaunt  that  I  would  accompany 


SURROUNDED.  297 

him,  buckled  on  my  pistol  and  sabre — articles  which  Mordaunt 
had  not  laid  aside. 

Man  proposes,  only.  At  that  instant  rapid  hoof-strokes  re- 
sounded without;  Achmed's  pistol  was  fired;  and,  looking 
through  the  door,  we  saw  a  whole  company  of  Federal  cavalry 
gallop  into  the  grounds. 

At  their  head,  as  they  approached  through  the  moonlight,  I 
recognized  Fenwick. 


LXXXIV. 

SURROUNDED. 

Not  a  moment  was  to  be  lost,  if  we  intended  to  attempt  to  es- 
cape. The  Federal  cavalry-men  had  seized  upon  our  horses,  and 
were  now  rushing  upon  the  house,  in  pursuit  of  the  Moor. 

I  never  saw  Mordaunt  look  more  cool ;  but,  when  he  recog- 
nized Fenwick,  a  livid  light  suddenly  glared  in  his  eyes,  and  his 
teeth  clinched. 

As  Achmed  entered,  he  advanced  two  steps  and  heavily 
barred  the  door.     Then  turning  to  Mrs.  Fitzhugh,  he  said  : 

"  We  are  going  to  defend  the  house,  madam.  "Will  you  retire 
to  the  upper  rooms  with  the  young  ladies?" 

The  old  lady  hastened  to  obey,  followed  by  Miss  Henrietta, 
who  trembled  from  head  to  foot. 

Violet  Grafton  did  not  stir.  The  color  had  faded  from  her 
cheeks,  but  her  eyes  were  brave  and  proud. 

"  Let  me  stay,"  she  said,  in  a  voice  as  firm  and  sweet  as  it  had 
been  an  hour  before.     "I  am  not  afraid." 

Mordaunt  took  her  hand  and  led  her,  without  speaking,  to  the 
staircase  in  one  corner  of  the  apartment. 

Her  head  fell,  a  burning  color  mounted  to  her  cheeks,  and 
she  disappeared  just  as  the  Federal  soldiers  threw  themselves 
against  the  door. 

"  Now,  Surry,"  said  Mordaunt,  with  a  sort  of  devil  in  his  eyes, 
**  I  don't  know  what  you  are  going  to  do,  but  I  am  not  going  to 
run  from  that  reptile.  I  mean  to  defend  this  house  to  the  last." 
13* 


298  SURRY    OF   EAGLE'S-NEST. 

"  You  can  count  on  me." 

"  Good — I  thought  as  much,  comrade.  Achmed  is  armed, 
and  as  brave  as  steel.    Is  your  pistol  loaded  ?" 

"  Yes." 

"  Then  we  have  some  fifteen  shots.  It's  odds  if  we  don't 
hurt  somebody — then  the  sabre  !" 

While  he  spoke,  Mordaunt,  assisted  by  Achmed,  dragged  a 
heavy  table  against  the  door,  and  I  secured  the  door  in  rear  in 
the  same  manner. 

"  Open!"  cried  a  threatening  voice,  accompanied  by  the  heavy 
blow  of  a  sabre-hilt;  "  open  !  you  are  my  prisoners !" 

"  Come  and  take  us !"  was  Mordaunt's  reply  as  he  cocked  his 
pistol. 

"  Open,  or  you  are  dead  ?" 

"  Bah  ! — we  are  not  children!" 

"  Who  are  you  ?" 

"Gentlemen!" 

"Officers?" 

"  What  matters  it  ?     We  are  men." 

"  In  ten  minutes  you  will  be  dead!" 

"  It  will  take  longer  than  that." 

The  reply  was  a  pistol-shot,  which  pierced  the  door  and  struck 
the  opposite  wall. 

Directing  Achmed  to  reserve  his  fire,  Mordaunt  reached  the 
window,  took  dead  aim,  and  fired.  A  groan  followed,  and  the 
heavy  sound  of  a  body  falling. 

"  One !"  he  said,  quickly  securing  the  shutters.  With  another 
movement  he  extinguished  the  only  light  in  the  apartment. 

He  had  scarcely  done  so  when  a  whole  volley  of  bullets  passed 
through  the  shutters ;  and  then  vigorous  hands  were  heard  en- 
deavoring to  tear  them  open. 

I  fired  at  three  paces  from  the  window,  and  heard  a  howl 
from  without. 

"  Two  !"  was  Mordaunt's  cool  comment.  "Keep  against  the 
wall,  Surry!" 

The  advice  was  good.  A  second  volley  came,  tearing  both 
through  doors  and  windows,  from  front  and  rear. 


SURROUNDED.  299 

'<  Open !"  howled  the  voice  we  had  heard  before  ;  "  open !  in- 
fernal guerrillas  that  you  are !  Open,  or  in  ten  minutes  I  will 
roast  you  alive!" 

Mordaunt's  cool  reply  was : 

"  We  have  the  honor  to  call  your  attention  to  the  fact  that  we 
are  not  guerrillas." 

"What  are  you,  then?" 

"  I  have  already  informed  you.     We  are  gentlemen." 

"  What  is  your  design  ?" 

"  To  defend  this  house,  and  kill  as  many  of  your  command  as 
possible." 

"  Fire !"  was  the  answer  in  a  voice  of  rage  from  without. 

And  a  volley  crashed  into  the  room. 

"  Fire  again! — tear  down  the  door  !" 

Another  came ;  then  heavy  shoulders  struck  against  the  door. 

"Reserve  your  fire — it  misses,  or  only  wounds,"  said  Hor- 
daunt,  "  you  will  soon  need  it." 

Suddenly  we  heard  the  voice  of  Fenwick.  He  spoke  in  a  low 
tone,  but  every  syllable  reached  us. 

"  Captain,"  he  said,  "  I  know  this  house  well,  and  I  know  the 
man  who  is  defending  it.  He  will  stop  at  nothing,  and  he  has 
barred  the  door,  so  that  it  cannot  be  opened.  Attack  from 
above,  and  you  will  have  better  luck." 

Mordaunt  uttered  a  low  growl,  and  raised  his  pistol — but  low- 
ered it  again. 

"  It  is  very  easy  to  say  attack  from  above,"  came  in  response 
to  Fenwick  from  without ;   "  but  how  the  devil  am  I  to  do  it  ?" 

"  There  is  a  ladder  yonder — and  a  window  at  the  side  of  the 
house.     Nothing  is  easier." 

"Will  you  mount?" 

There  was  a  moment's  silence,  interrupted  by  a  sarcastic 
laugh. 

"That  was  not  the  bargain,"  replied  Fenwick,  coolly  ;  "send 
one  of  the  men." 

"A  man  there,  to  mount  a  ladder,"  said  the  captain. 

Mordaunt  looked  at  me  and  laughed. 

"  That's  a  small  affair,"  he  said  ;  "  it  will  save  ammunition  to 


300  SURRY    OF    EAGLE'S-NEST. 

send  Achmed  with  his  knife.     The  poor  boy  is  dying  to  take 
part." 

In  fact,  the  young  Moor  had  remained  erect,  silent,  and  motion- 
less, but  his  sparkling  black  eyes  betrayed  his  desire  to  engage 
in  the  struggle. 

The  sound  of  a  ladder  dragged  along  the  ground  was  now 
heard — then  the  noise  it  made  in  striking  against  the  wall 
above. 

Mordaunt  turned  to  the  young  man,  and  said  a  few  words  to 
him  in  Arabic,  pointing,  as  he  did  so,  to  a  long,  slender  poniaud 
in  Achmed's  breast.  The  boy's  face  glowed ;  he  drew  the  long, 
bright  blade,  and  disappeared  at  one  bound  up  the  staircase, 
moving  as  noiselessly  as  a  tiger. 

"Ready!"  came  from  without ;  and  then  was  heard  the  noise 
of  heavy  boots  ascending  the  ladder,  accompanied  by  the  clatter 
of  a  sabre  against  the  rounds. 

"Now  for  it!"  shouted  the  voice  of  the  Federal  captain. 
"  You  are  at  the  window !     Burst  it  in  ! " 

The  steps  continued  to  ascend ;  the  shutters  were  evidently 
being  torn  open ;  when,  all  at  once,  a  frightful  cry  resounded 
above,  and  a  heavy  body  was  heard  falling  along  the  ladder,  and 
striking  violently  against  the  ground.  The  ladder  was  then 
heard  to  crash  down — and  the  next  instant  Achmed  reappeared, 
wiping  his  poniard,  which  was  streaming  with  blood. 

With  a  few  words  in  Arabic,  he  resumed  his  former  place. 
As  he  did  so,  a  volley  of  oaths  resounded  without,  and  one  of 
the  men  said : 

"He's  dead,  Captain — stabbed  through  the  heart." 

"Three!"  said  Mordaunt,  laughing. 

He  had  scarcely  spoken  when  a  furious  rush  was  made  on  the 
front  door,  amid  a  wild  outburst  of  yells  and  imprecations. 

"  They  will  break  it  down,  Surry,"  said  Mordaunt,  coolly. 

"  So  it  appears— and  then,  my  dear  friend,  the  affair  will  be 
pretty  well  decided." 

"  One  thing  will  be  left,  Surry." 

"  What's  that  ?" 

"To  die  game." 


SURROUNDED.  301 

As  he  uttered  the  words,  the  door  was  burst  open,  and  the 
assailants  crowded  the  opening — their  captain  at  the  head. 

For  a  moment  the  heavy  table  checked  them — and  behind  this 
table  stood  Mordaunt,  pistol  in  hand,  erect  and  threatening  as  a 
destroying  angel. 

"  Surrender ! "  howled  the  Federal  captain,  raising  his  pistol  as 
he  spoke. 

Mordaunt  did  not  reply.  His  arm  was  extended,  as  straight 
as  an  arrow,  across  the  table — he  fired,  with  the  muzzle  of  his 
pistol  almost  touching  his  adversary's  breast — and  the  Federal 
captain  fell  forward,  shot  through  the  heart. 

For  a  single  instant  the  assailants  recoiled,  and  I  fired  at  an 
officer  behind,  but  missed  him.  The  Moor  had  already  emptied 
all  his  barrels,  and  had  drawn  his  poniard. 

Suddenly  the  voice  of  Fenwick  was  heard  exclaiming  : 

"  Kill  the  tall  man ! — a  thousand  dollars  to  the  man  who  kills 
him!" 

Mordaunt  fired  his  sole  remaining  barrel,  and  I  knew  from  his 
hoarse  exclamation  that  he  had  not  struck  Fenwick. 

"Now  for  the  sabre!''  he  exclaimed,  as  the  table  was  hurled 
back,  and  a  dozen  men  rushed  on  him. 

The  overthrown  table  formed  a  sort  of  barricade,  and  across 
this  now  took  place  a  desperate  struggle.  The  men  behind  were 
afraid  to  fire,  for  fear  of  wounding  their  companions  ;  and  those 
in  front  required  all  their  skill  to  parry  the  rapid  and  mortal 
blows  of  Mordaunt,  and  the  deadly  strokes  of  Achmed's  poniard. 

To  "  die  game  "  seemed  now  all  that  was  left  for  us.  But 
even  at  that  moment,  when  certain  death  seemed  staring  us  in 
the  face,  I  could  not  suppress  a  thrill  of  admiration  for  the  defi- 
ant courage  of  my  companion.  He  fought,  thus  at  bay,  amid  his 
crowding  adversaries,  with  the  skill  and  coolness  of  a  swordsman 
fencing  for  amusement— and  at  every  stroke  with  the  edge,  or 
lunge  with  the  point,  his  weapon  drew  blood. 

But  we  were  rapidly  forced  back  ;  shots  fired  over  the  heads 
of  the  assailants  buried  themselves  in  the  wall  behind;  and, 
Buddenly,  the  table  was  broken  down  and  trodden  under  foot. 

At  the  same  moment  Mordaunt  staggered. 


302  SURRY    OF    EAGLE'S-NEST. 

'  You  are  struck ! "  I  exclaimed. 

*'No — my  foot  slipped — in  the  blood!" 

And,  clearing  a  circle  with  a  single  whirl  of  his  sabre,  he 
placed  his  hand  against  the  wall — in  his  fiery  eyes  the  wrath  of 
a  tiger  at  bay — ready  to  die,  but  not  to  yield. 

At  his  side  was  Achmed,  calm  yet  fiery;  and  this  was  the 
condition  of  affairs  when,  all  at  once,  amid  the  clash  of  the 
sabres,  shots  were  heard  without,  and  then  the  rapid  sound  of 
hoofs. 

"Charge!  and  cut  down  every  man!"  shouted  a  voice  which 
seemed  familiar ;  and  in  an  instant  the  Federal  cavalry  were 
charged  by  a  detachment  of  gray-coats. 

In  front  rode  Harry  Saltoun,  and  at  his  side — Violet  Grafton ! 

She  had  escaped  from  the  house  during  the  struggle — hastened 
on  foot  to  the  nearest  picket — and  led  the  party  back  to  the 
house,  fearlessly  riding  upon  the  saddle  of  a  trooper  ! 

In  an  instant  the  detachment  led  by  Harry  Saltoun  were  in 
collision  with  the  Federal  soldiers,  cutting  right  and  left  The 
blue-coats  ran  to  their  horses,  and  hastily  mounted — but,  before 
the  whole  could  do  so,  a  number  were  shot  down  or  sabred. 

Mordaunt  rushed  through  the  doorway  and  mounted  his  re- 
captured horse. 

"Follow  me!"  rang  out  in  his  sonorous  voice. 

And,  placing  himself  at  the  head  of  the  detachment,  he  charged 
the  retreating  enemy,  cutting  down  every  man  he  came  opposite. 


LXXXV. 

THE    SINGLE    COMBAT. 

"We  had  followed  the  enemy  for  more  than  half  a  mile,  when, 
all  at  once,  twenty  yards  in  front,  I  saw  Fenwick.  He  was 
mounted  upon  a  splendid  bay,  and  wore  a  pistol  and  sabre. 

Mordaunt  had  already  recognized  him,  and  was  pursuing  him 
like  an  avenging  Nemesis,  apparently  forgetful  of  all  else. 


THE    SINGLE    COMBAT.  303 

"  At  last. !"  I  heard  him  say,  with  a  hoarse  growl,  through  his 
close-set  teeth. 

And,  without  another  word,  he  darted  upon  his  adversary. 

Mordaunt's  horse,  driven  on  with  bloody  spurs,  made  long  and 
desperate  leaps — I  saw  his  rider  rise  to  his  full  height  in  the 
saddle — then  his  weapon  passed  to  his  left  shoulder,  and  I  knew 
that  he  was  about  to  make,  as  he  came  up  with  his  adversary, 
that  terrible  "right  cut"  which  I  had  seen  him  deliver  in  bat- 
tle. 

The  thundering  stride  of  his  great  black  brought  him  opposite 
Fenwick.  I  saw  his  sabre  gleam  in  the  moonlight  as  it  whirled 
— when,  suddenly,  Fenwick's  horse  fell,  shot  through  the  body 
by  one  of  the  cavalrymen  behind,  and  Mordaunt's  blow  passed 
over  the  rider's  head. 

In  an  instant  Fenwick  was  on  his  feet,  and,  as  Mordaunt  rode 
at  him,  fired.  The  bullet  pierced  the  neck  of  the  black,  and  he 
staggered  forward — Mordaunt  leaping  from  the  saddle  as  he 
fell. 

Then  he  rushed  upon  Fenwick,  and  they  closed,  breast  to 
breast,  in  a  mortal  struggle. 

Absorbed  by  this  passionate  encounter,  I  forgot  all  else,  and 
checked  my  horse  to  witness  it. 

Fenwick  was  evidently  an  excellent  swordsman,  and  I  saw  that 
he  was  brave ;  but  he  was  no  match  for  his  adversary.  Mor- 
daunt drove  him,  step  by  step,  across  the  road,  toward  a  gigantic 
oak,  which  stretched  its  gnarled  branches  above,  in  the  moon- 
light— and  then,  with  his  back  against  the  trunk,  Fenwick  could 
retreat  no  further. 

The  moon  shone  full  upon  his  face — it  was  distorted  by  an  ex- 
pression which  might  have  done  honor  to  the  mythologic  furies. 
He  struck  at  Mordaunt  with  the  fury  of  despair — then  the  com- 
bat terminated. 

Rushing  upon  him,  with  his  sabre  at  tierce  point,  Mordaunt 
drove  the  keen  weapon  through  his  breast,  and  the  point  was 
buried  in  the  tree  beyond. 

Fenwick  remained  erect — stretched  out  his  arms — and  his 
Bword  fell  from  his  grasp. 


304  SURRY    OF    EAGLE'S-NEST. 

"Die!"  exclaimed  Mordaunt,  folding  his  arras,  and  speaking 
in  a  tone  which  it  is  impossible  to  describe.  "  But,  before  your 
black  soul  goes  before  its  Judge,  reply  to  me!" 

Fenwick's  drooping  eyes  slowly  opened.  He  looked  at  his 
adversary  as  the  bleeding  wolf  caught  in  the  trap  looks  at  the 
huntsman — sidewise,  with  sullen  and  bloodshot  eyes. 

"Why  did  you  make  my  existence  one  life-long  agony?"  said 
Mordaunt,  hoarsely.  "  What  harm  had  I  done  you,  that  you 
should  render  me  thus  wretched  ?" 

"  I  hated  you !"  came  in  a  savage  murmur  from  Fen  wick ;  and 
the  blood  rushed  to  his  lips,  as  he  glared  at  his  enemy. 

"  Why  did  you  hate  me  ?" 

"  Because  she  loved  you." 

Mordaunt's  face  grew  rigid. 

"  Enough  of  that.     What  brought  you  here  to-night?" 

"  To  carry  off  the  other." 

"Violet  Grafton?" 

"  Yes,"  he  gasped. 

"  And  kill  me,  if  you  found  me  there?" 

"  Yes !  hate  !  hate !  hate  !  eternal  hate  for  you — that — goes 
with  me — I  die  with  that!" — 

And  again  stretching  out  his  arms,  Fenwick  fell  forward,  the 
sword  snapping  in  his  body. 

At  this  moment,  heavy  firing  came  from  the  front,  and 
rapidly  drew  near.  Saltoun's  detachment,  which  had  pursued 
the  enemy,  were  evidently  returning  at  a  gallop,  hotly  pursued  in 
their  turn — and,  in  a  few  moments,  the  scattered  horsemen  came 
in  sight,  with  the  enemy  on  their  heels. 

As  one  of  our  own  men  fled  past  us,  a  bullet  pierced  his  back, 
and  he  fell  mortally  wounded  from  the  saddle. 

I  seized  the  rein  of  his  horse,  and  threw  it  to  Mordaunt,  who 
got  into  the  saddle.  Under  his  energetic  appeals  the  men 
rallied  in  a  measure ;  but  young  Harry  Saltoun  soon  appeared, 
falling  back  like  the  rest. 

"  It's  no  go,  Colonel  I"  he  exclaimed;  "  they  have  more  than 
a  regiment,  and  are  pressing  me  back,  in  spite  of  all  I  can  dol 
Here  they  are  I" 


Combat  Between  Mordaunt  and  Fenwick.— p.  304. 


THE    SINGLE    COMBAT.  305 

The  whole  detachment  was  now  seen  falling  hack  in  disorder 
before  the  enemy. 

"  Steady  !  shouted  Mordaunt.  "  All  right,  hoys !  Re-enforce- 
ments will  soon  he  here!'1 

And,  giving  a  quick  order  to  Lieutenant  Saltoun,  who  galloped 
off,  Mordaunt  took  command  of  the  detachment,  slowly  retiring 
as  the  enemy  pressed  him. 

This  movement  was  effected  with  masterly  nerve  and  coolness — 
at  every  step  the  enemy  were  met  by  skilfully  disposed  sharp- 
shooters— and,  before  Mordaunt  had  been  pressed  back  half  a  mile, 
the  force  for  which  Saltoun  had  gone  arrived.  It  was  the  remain- 
der of  Mordaunt1  s  regiment;  and  it  had  no  sooner  appeared 
than  he  placed  himself  at  the  head  of  it,  and  charged  the 
Federal  column,  which  proved  to  be  nearly  a  brigade. 

An  obstinate  fight  followed,  in  which  neither  side  gained  any 
advantage — and  then  a  desultory  firing  ensued.  Daylight  ap- 
proached. 

Mordaunt  and  myself  had  ridden  forward  to  make  a  recon- 
noissance  with  Harry  Saltoun,  when  suddenly  the  young  man 
was  seen  to  reel  in  his  saddle,  and  if  I  had  not  passed  my  arm 
around  him  he  would  have  fallen. 

"What's  the  matter?11  I  said,  as  he  raised  his  head. 

"  I  was  shot  yonder,11  he  replied,  trying  to  smile  as  he  spoke, 
"  in  the  charge  at  the  house  !     It  is  nothing  " — 

And  he  fainted. 

The  bullet  had  passed  through  the  same  arm  which  had  been 
wounded  on  the  Rapidan,  inflicting  a  painful  injury.  The  sleeve 
and  gauntlet  of  the  young  man  were  drenched  in  blood ;  but  lie 
had  said  nothing,  followed  the  enemy,  ridden,  and  brought  re-en- 
forcements, and  then  charged  at  the  head  of  his  company.  "  It 
was  nothing  1* — ■  but  he  had  fainted  at  last. 

He  was  placed  upon  a  litter,  and  sent  back  to  Elm  Cottage, 
with  a  note  from  Mordaunt  to  Violet  Grafton. 

Afterward  I  knew  that,  in  sending  the  youth  there,  Mordaunt 
had  a  double  motive,  and  performed  one  of  those  actions  which 
only  great  souls  are  equal  to.  But  one  of  the  worst  faults  of  a 
writer  is  to  anticipate. 


306  SURRY    OF    BAGLE'S-NEST. 

At  daylight  the  enemy  retired,  and  Mordaunt  immediately 
pressed  forward. 

As  we  passed  the  gigantic  oak  where  the  bloody  combat  be- 
tween Mordaunt  and  his  enemy  had  taken  place,  I  looked  for  the 
body  of  Fenwick. 

It  was  not  visible.  The  enemy  had  no  doubt  carried  it  off 
with  the  rest  of  their  dead,  except  those  at  Elm  Cottage. 

I  looked  at  Mordaunt's  face.  In  the  dark  eyes  was  the  fierce 
glare  of  the  tiger  who  has  just  torn  his  prey  limb  from  limb. 


LXXXVI. 

IN  WHICH  THE  WRITER  OMITS  A  DESCRIPTION  OF  THE 
SECOND  BATTLE  OF  MANASSAS. 

Jackson  moved  again  at  dawn.  So  perfect  had  been  the 
cordon  of  cavalry  pickets  and  scouting  parties  between  the 
Southern  column  and  the  enemy,  that  the  march  was  still  entire- 
ly undiscovered;  and  reaching  Thoroughfare  Gap,  a  few  miles 
west  of  Manassas,  Jackson  found  it  entirely  undefended. 

Passing  through  the  frowning  ramparts  of  the  gorge,  he  de- 
scended upon  the  great  Federal  depot  at  Manassas. 

He  was  now  completely  in  General  Pope's  rear,  and  directly 
upon  his  communications  with  Washington.  The  great  object 
of  the  expedition  was  to  destroy  the  stores  at  Manassas,  defeat 
General  Pope's  attempt  to  rescue  them,  and  lastly,  hold  him  in 
check  until  General  Lee  arrived  with  Longstreet's  corps.  Then, 
a  pitched  battle. 

Jackson  made  his  dispositions  rapidly,  and  with  consummate 
skill. 

Ewell  was  sent  toward  Bristoe,  a  station  on  the  Orange  road, 
about  four  miles  from  Manassas,  and  Stuart  then  proceeded  with 
his  cavalry  and  Trimble's  brigade,  in  advance  to  Manassas.  The 
attack  was  made  about  daylight,  and  the  troops  rushed  iu,  under 
a  hot  fire,  and  were  soon  in  possession  of  the  place. 

About  seven  in  the  morning,  General  Taylor's  Federal  bri- 
gade, which  had  been  hurried  forward  from  Washington,  crossed 


A    DESCRIPTION    OMITTED.  307 

at  Blackburn's  Ford,  and  made  an  obstinate  attack — but  it  was 
too  late.  Stuart  was  in  tbe  works,  and  no  sooner  bad  tbe 
Federal  infantry  appeared  than  be  opened  a  sudden  and  deter- 
mined artillery  fire,  wbich  completely  drove  them  back.  They 
were  pursued  by  Captain  Pelham,  with  his  horse  artillery,  and 
driven  in  the  direction  of  Alexandria. 

This  attack  had  scarcely  been  repulsed  when  Ewell  received 
the  assault  of  General  Pope,  at  Bristoe,  meeting  it  with  his  cus- 
tomary obstinacy.  When  notified  by  Jackson  that  Manassas  was 
destroyed,  he  slowly  fell  back,  burning  the  bridge  in  his  rear; 
and  the  various  columns  converged  toward  the  little  village  of 
Groveton,  near  the  old  battle-field  of  July  21,  1861,  where,  with 
his  back  to  Sudley  Ford,  Jackson  awaited  the  enemy. 

The  scenes  at  Manassas,  when  the  troops  marched  in,  were 
singular.  Enormous  stores  of  every  description  greeted  the  eyes 
of  the  men,  in  the  government  depots  and  sutlers'  shanties,  and 
these  were  seized  upon  by  the  starving  troops  with  avidity.  I 
saw  famished  men,  barefooted  and  in  rags,  eating  lobster  salad 
and  drinking  Rhine  wine. 

When  Jackson  turned  his  back  upon  Manassas,  nothing  was 
left  but  a  mass  of  smoking  ruins,  from  which  a  few  straggling 
cavalrymen  disappeared,  slowly  retiring  before  the  advance  of 
Pope. 

By  the  destruction  of  these  great  stores,  and  the  railroad  to- 
ward Alexandria,  which  was  accomplished  by  Fitz  Lee,  General 
Pope  was  left  without  supplies  for  men  or  horses.  At  one  blow 
Jackson  had  wounded  him  mortally.  If  the  Confederate  com- 
mander could  only  hold  his  ground  now  until  Lee  arrived,  a  de- 
termined attack  upon  the  starved  men  and  animals  of  his  adver- 
sary must  end  in  his  complete  defeat. 

Jackson  made  desperate  efforts  to  hold  his  ground.  His  force 
was  under  twenty  thousand  men,  and  General  Pope  had  his 
whole  "  Army  of  Virginia"  in  close  vicinity,  pouring  forward  to 
crush  the  audacious  destroyer  of  his  stores. 

Jackson  did  not  wait  to  be  assailed.  He  attacked — and  a 
bloody  engagement  continued  until  after  night. 

Meanwhile,   Longstreet  was  rapidly  advancing.     Every  hour 


308 


SURRY    OF    EAGLE'S-NEST, 


now  counted.     Jackson  would  be  attacked  on  the  next  morning 
by  the  whole  Federal  army.     He  seemed  to  have  made  up  his 
mind  to  stand  at  bay,  and  fight  whatever  force  assailed  him— 
leaving  the  rest  to  Providence. 

It  was  after  night  when  a  courier,  who  had  ridden  by  a  bridlo 
path  over  the  mountain,  reached  Groveton,  and  announced  that 
General  Lee  was  near  the  Gap,  and  rapidly  advancing.  "When 
Jackson  received  this  intelligence  he  drew  a  long  breath,  his 
brow  cleared,  and  he  rose  erect  in  his  saddle,  as  if  a  heavy  weight 
was  raised  from  his  shoulders. 

Soon  the  thunder  of  Longstreet's  guns  was  heard  reverberating 
from  the  gorge  of  Thoroughfare  Gap,  and  the  enemy's  force 
there  made  a  furious  response,  completely  raking  the  narrow 
pass  with  shell  and  canister. 

It  was  not  long,  however,  before  the  Federal  artillery  was 
withdrawn  at  a  gallop ;  Longstreet's  men  rushed  through ;  and, 
as  the  sun  rose,  the  long  glittering  lines  of  bayonets  were  seen 
steadily  advancing  to  take  position  on  Jackson's  right. 

The  line  of  battle  thus  formed  was  an  open  V,  with  Groveton 
in  the  angle.  Jackson's  line — the  left  wing — was  in  front  of 
Sudley  Ford  ;  Longstreet's — the  right  wing — running  across  the 
Warrenton  turnpike.  Where  the  two  lines  joined,  a  crest  bristled 
with  artillery  to  repulse  the  attempt  which  woidd  probably  be 
made  to  burst  through,  and  thus  pierce  the  Confederate  centre. 

My  readers  must  go  to  the  histories  for  an  account  of  the  great 
"  Second  Battle  of  Manassas."  I  cannot  enter  upon  that  vast, 
desperate,  and  long-continued  combat.  The  action  will  always 
possess  a  weird  interest,  from  having  been  fought  upon  the  iden- 
tical ground  of  the  first  battle — except  that  the  adversaries  had 
changed  positions.  It  was  the  Federal  forces  which  now  attacked 
from  the  direction  of  Manassas,  and  Jackson  who  stood  with  his 
back  to  Sudley  Ford. 

See  the  histories.  The  writer  of  memoirs  deals  in  colors,  inci- 
dents, and  "  trifles  " — not  in  the  great  public  events  about  which 
so  much  is  said  in  "  official  documents."  He  would  make  a  fine 
"battle-piece"  of  the  great  second  battle  of  Manassas,  were  it 
necessary  ;  paint  the  blue  and  gray  lines  reeling  to  and  fro  ;  the 


THE    YOUNG    SIGN AL-OFFICEPw.        309 

artillery  "  sweeping  like  a  whirlwind  of  shot  and  shell"  throngh 
the  opposing  ranks ;  and,  after  reading  his  "  animated  descrip- 
tion,'1 the  reader  should  find  himself  in  that  pleasing  condition 
of  mind  when  the  memory  retains  only  a  hlurred  and  confused 
idea  of  dust,  smoke,  uproar,  hlood — dead  men  and  horses,  breasts 
riddled  with  bullets,  color-bearers  grasping  their  flags  with  forms 
torn  in  two  by  round-shot — bodies  deficient  in  legs,  deficient  in 
heads,  deficient  in  arms — groans,  yells,  shouts,  cheers:  and  then 
a  "  glorious  victory."  A  glorious  victory  is  no  doubt  a  glorious 
thing;  but  it  is  a  brutal  and  bloody  affair — this  war-makings- 
under  the  glory  and  the  laurels. 

When  the  sun  set  on  the  third  day's  fight,  the  conflict  was 
over.  Pope  was  defeated,  and  in  full  retreat  toward  Washing- 
ton ;  the  Federal  Capital  was  in  imminent  danger ;  and  General 
McClellan,  in  command  of  the  reserve  retained  for  its  defence, 
wrote,  "This  week  is  the  crisis  of  our  fate." 

Such  were  the  magnificent  results  accomplished  by  the  great 
flank  movement  of  Jackson.  That  march  and  what  it  effected 
will  always  remain  one  of  the  most  remarkable  episodes  of  mili- 
tary history,  and  rank  with  the  proudest  glories  of  the  great 
commander. 

There  seemed  to  be  something  like  retributive  justice  in  the 
result.  General  Pope  had  permitted,  if  not  authorized,  the  most 
flagrant  oppression  of  the  poor  non-coml»atants  of  the  country  he 
had  occupied,  declaring  that  he  had  never  seen  any  thing  of  his 
enemies  but  their  backs. 

Now  he  saw  the  face  of  "Jackson's  men  " — and  his  star  weDt 
down  in  blood. 


LXXXVII. 

THE     YOUNG     SIGNAL-OFFICER. 

On  the  day  succeeding  this  desperate  conflict,  Jackson,  whose 
Bo.umn  was  pressing  toward  Centreville,  directed  me  to  find 
Stuart,  and  accompany  him  in  a  movement  which  he  was  making 
to  the  rear  of  the  enemy.     I  was  to  ascertain  the  state  of  things 


310  SURRY    OF    EAGLE'S-NEST. 

in  that  direction,  and  return  as  soon  as  possible  with  confidential 
intelligence  from  Stuart. 

My  route  led  me  by  the  Stone  House,  which  my  readers  cannot 
have  forgotten  ;  and  I  soon  came  in  sight  of  it.  The  place  was 
a  mass  of  ruins.  The  walls  had  been  shattered  and  overthrown 
by  cannon-balls,  the  garden  torn  to  pieces  in  the  hot  struggle ; 
and,  reining  in  my  horse,  I  could  scarcely  make  out  the  stunted 
tree  under  which  the  unfortunate  lady  in  white  had  been  buried. 
The  mansion  was  a  melancholy  ruin,  charred  and  blackened — 
It  seemed  to  typify  the  life  of  the  woman  who  had  returned  to 
this  place,  the  scene  of  her  former  happiness,  to  sleep  the  sleep 
of  death. 

Had  Mordaunt  passed  near  that  spot?  I  asked  myself  as  I 
rode  on ;  and  then  a  thousand  thoughts  chased  each  other  through 
my  mind.  How  singular  were  the  circumstances  which  had  put 
me  in  possession  of  this  strange  man's  history !  How  sad  that 
record !  How  surprising  had  been  the  combination  of  events 
which  threw  him  face  to  face,  on  that  gloomy  night,  in  this 
weird  spot,  with  the  living  image  of  the  woman  whom  he  had 
loved!  I  could  understand  the  profound  emotion  which  had 
mastered  the  strong  man,  at  seeing  thus,  as  it  were,  the  very 
face  and  eyes  and  hair  of  Frances  Oarleton  once  more  there  be- 
fore him,  where  she  had  smiled  long  years  before — and  under- 
stand too  the  poignant  anguish  which  wrung  his  heart,  when  all 
his  fancied  wrongs  and  shame  were  thus  brought  back  to  mind, 
and  traced,  as  it  were,  with  a  pen  of  flame  upon  his  heart.  And 
then  a  deeper  admiration  than  before  for  this  proud  spirit  inspired 
me — for  this  man  who,  burying  his  grief  and  distress  and  bitter 
anguish,  had  borne  up  so  bravely,  and  served  his  country  with  a 
courage  and  devotion  so  conspicuous  and  splendid- 
Stuart  had  pressed  on  rapidly,  and,  before  I  had  joined  him,  I 
heard  the  thunder  of  his  horse  artillery  as  he  attacked  the 
Federal  forces  near  Fairfax  Court- House.  Pushing  on,  I  reached 
the  spot,  and  found  the  General  superintending  the  fire  of  the 
guns,  which  were  commanded  by  young  Pelham,  now  his  chief 
of  artillery. 

"All  goes  well,  Surry,"  said  the  General,  when  I  had  delivered 


THE    YOUNG    SIGNAL-OFFICER.        311 

my  message.  "  I  am  crowding  'em  with  artillery  ;*  and,  if 
Stonewall  doesn't  hurry  up,  there  will  be  nothing  for  him  to  do." 

"  He  is  coming  right  on,  General." 

"And  you  have  pushed  on  to  'jine  the  cavalry'!  Well,  we 
have  had  a  little  affair  near  Chantilly — captured  a  whole  com- 
pany of  Yankee  cavalry.     Look!  there  is  the  captain!" 

And  he  pointed  to  an  officer  mounted  upon  a  magnificent  black 
horse,  carrying  before  him  on  the  pommel  of  his  saddle  a  bril- 
liant stars-and-stripes  flag.t 

I  looked  at  the  officer  and  thought  I  recognized  him,  but 
could  not  remember  where  I  had  seen  him.  A  second  glance 
recalled  the  time  and  place.  It  was  the  humorous  personage 
who  had  captured  me  near  Cross  Keys,  and  sent  me  to  Sir  Percy 
Wyndham  with  the  laughing  order  to  my  guard  to  kill  me  if  I 
attempted  to  escape. 

"  "We  recaptured  poor  Hardeman  Stuart's  coat,  too,"  added  the 
General,  with  a  sad  expression  in  his  bold  face.  "  You  remem- 
ber him,  do  you  not — my  signal-officer?" 

"Remember  him?"  I  said;  "he  is  one  of  the  best  friends  I 
have  on  your  staff,  General.  It  is  impossible  not  to  love  his  gay, 
frank  face,  with  its  blue  eyes  and  chestnut  curls.  I  saw  him 
just  before  the  battle  opened." 

"  Ah  ?"  said  Stuart,  with  the  same  half  sigh.. 

"  Yes,"  was  my  reply.  "  I  was  riding  over  to  thi  right,  when 
a  dusty  figure,  without  hat  or  coat,  ran  out  from  a  house  and 
hailed  me.  I  could  scarcely  recognize  Hardeman,  who  is  the 
model  of  elegance,  you  know,  in  uniform  and  appearance.  He 
called  out,  '  How  d'ye,  Major !'— shook  hands  with  me— and 
then  told  me,  laughing,  that  he  had  been  attacked  on  the  moun- 
tain yonder,  at  his  signal-station,  and  had  lost  his  horse  and 
coat.     He  said  he  intended  to  get  another  horse  and  rejoin  you." 

"  Poor  boy!"  sighed  Stuart ;  "  he  could  not  mount  himself,  and 
he  was  too  brave  and  devoted  to  remain  idle.  He  got  a  musket, 
fought  with  his  old  company  from  Mississippi,  and  was  killed.'' 

I  felt  deeply  shocked  at  this  intelligence.     Hardeman   Stuart 

*  Stuart's  expression.  t  ReaL 


312  SURRY    OF   EAGLE'S-NEST. 

had  been  one  of  my  greatest  favorites,  and  I  loved  him,  as  every- 
body did,  for  his  sweet,  frank  temper  and  his  gallant  spirit. 

"  Hardeman  dead?"  I  said.     "  It  is  not  possible,  General!" 

"It  is  true,  and  the  singular  thing  is  that  we  have  just  recap- 
tured his  new  uniform  coat." 

"His  coat?" 

•'  Yes,  it  was  strapped  to  his  saddle,  and  captured  with  his 
horse.     This  Yankee  company  of  cavalry,  surprised  at  Ohautilly 
had  it.*     There  it  is." 

And  he  pointed  to  the  coat  strapped  behind  a  courier. 

"Poor,  poor  Hardeman  !     But  he  was  buried?" 

"  Yes.  Major  Yon  Borcke  saw  his  grave.  But  we  are  getting 
sad.  Come,  Surry,  I  am  going  to  withdraw,  and,  as  I  expect  in- 
formation during  the  night,  you  had  better  remain  until  morn- 
ing.    Come  with  me,  and  I  will  provide  you  with  lodgings." 

"  Willingly." 

And  I  followed  the  General,  who  retired  just  at  nightfall. 


LXXXVIII. 

ONE  OP  STUART'S  "TIGHT  PLACES." 

The  cavalry  soon  halted,  and  lay  down  in  bivouac. 

Stuart  rode  on  with  his  staff  through  the  black  darkness; 
and  the  sad  story  which  he  had  just  told  me  gradually  disap- 
peared from  his  mind.  This  strong  and  exuberant  nature  could 
not  long  remain  gloomy. 

Half  an  hour's  ride  brought  us  to  a  house  near  Frying-Pan 
Church,  where  we  halted,  and  were  received  with  the  warmest 
hospitality  by  some  young  ladies,  who  seemed  overjoyed  at  sight 
of  our  gray  coats,  and  the  General,  who  was  evidently  an  ac- 
quaintance and  favorite.  If  you  recall  that  evening,  fair  and 
charming  "  friends  of  the  soldier,"  and  this  page  meets  your  eye, 
receive  the  assurance  of  the  unchanging  regard  and  admiration 

*  A  real  incident. 


ONE   OF  STUART'S   "TIGHT  PLACES."    313 

of  one  person  who  that  night  basked  in  the  warm  light  of  your 
smiles. 

If  I  were  writing  a  romance,  worthy  reader,  instead  of  my 
veritable  memoirs,  what  a  favorable  opportunity  would  now  be 
presented  to  make  Stuart  the  hero  of  a  "thrilling  adventure!" 
Contemplate  the  situation,  and  observe  its  dramatic  capabilities  ! 
Stuart,  the  bold  cavalier,  asleep  in  a  remote  mansion  near  tho 
enemy,  far  beyond  his  own  pickets,  without  a  single  vedette  out, 
and  liable  to  be  "  caught  napping  "  as  at  Verdiersville.  What 
would  be  easier  than  to  bring  a  whole  Federal  regiment  of 
cavalry  down  on  the  gay  cavalier,  and  narrate  in  the  most  ap- 
proved and  striking  style  the  manner  in  which  he  engaged  them 
single-handed,  and  overcame  them  all !  If  necessary,  Colonel 
Mordaunt  or  General  Fitz  Lee  might  come  to  his  assistance — 
the  ghost  of  Fenwick  might  appear — and  indeed  almost  any 
thing  might  be  made  to  happen  ! 

The  present  writer  is  much  too  conscientious,  however,  to  in- 
dulge in  such  ''weak  inventions."  No  such  incidents  occurred, 
therefore  they  cannot  be  narrated.  Stern  devotion  to  truth 
compels  me  to  say  that,  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  we  had  not  a 
single  vedette  posted  to  give  warning  of  an  enemy's  approach 
the  night  passed  away  in  perfect  quiet ;  the  dawn  appeared,  and 
with  it  our  fair  hostesses,  who  gave  us  an  excellent  breakfast, 
and  bade  us  God  speed. 

Do  not  the  prayers  of  women  shield  us  often  ?  I  think  so. 
They  prayed  with  all  their  hearts  in  the  late  revolution,  and 
were  angels  to  us  all.  The  soldiers  of  the  army  and  the  women 
did  their  duty  ;  had  the  rest  done  likewise,  we  might  have  been 
the  founders  of  an  empire  ! 

So  we  left  our  smiling  hostess  and  her  friends,  and  again  set 
out  toward  Chantilly. 

Jackson's  column  was  already  pressing  forward,  and  when  I 
joined  him  he  was  sitting  upon  the  ground,  with  his  back  against 
a  tree,  his  chin  upon  his  breast,  his  hands  crossed  over  his 
bosom,  fast  asleep.  The  enemy's  sharpshooters  were  firing 
rapidly  near  by,  but  he  slept  tranquilly.* 

•  Historical. 
14 


314  SURRY    OF    EAGLE'S-NEST. 

An  hour  or  two  afterward  he  had  pressed  on  and  attacked 
the  enemy  near  Germantown,  on  the  Oxliill  road. 

There,  the  beaten  army  of  General  Pope,  with  reserves  from 
Washington  under  Generals  Franklin,  Stevens,  and  Kearney, 
made  a  last  stand,  and  fought  with  desperation  to  effect  their 
retreat. 

The  opposing  lines  were  soon  engaged,  and  to  the  roar  of  mus- 
ketry and  cannon  was  suddenly  added  that  of  a  violent  storm. 
The  thunder  drowned  the  noise  of  the  guns,  and  the  drenching 
rain  which  poured  down  threatened  to  put  an  end  to  the  action. 
Jackson  was  calmly  watching  the  contest,  when  a  courier  from 
one  of  his  Generals  came  up  and  brought  a  message  to  the  effect 
that  the  rain  had  made  the  powder  wet,  and  his  command  could 
not  continue  the  engagement. 

"Tell  him  to  hold  his  ground,"  was  Jackson's  reply.  "If  it 
makes  his  powder  useless,  it  will  make  the  enemy's  too  !"* 

The  result  of  the  action  was  completely  in  favor  of  the 
Southern  arms,  but  I  did  not  witness  the  latter  portion  of  it.  I 
had  been  sent  again  to  Stuart,  who  was  moving  around  toward 
Flint  Hill,  an  eminence  north  of  the  Oourt-House,  to  occupy  it 
with  artillery,  and  attack  the  enemy  in  flank. 

I  joined  Stuart  just  as  he  reached  a  narrow  road  leading  up 
the  hill.  It  was  growing  dark,  and  the  storm  was  roaring  down ; 
but  the  General  did  not  give  up  his  design.  Leaving  one  regi- 
ment at  the  mouth  of  the  road  to  protect  his  rear,  he  advanced 
with  another,  and  had  soon  reached  the  elevated  ground  above. 

Here  the  brave  Colonel  Wickham  rode  back  from  the  advance- 
guard,  which  he  commanded,  and  said  : 

"  General,  I  got  near  the  Cross  Roads,  and  find  them  heavily 
picketed  with  infantry." 

Stuart  reflected  a  moment,  and  then  calling  "  Captain  Farley," 
whom  the  reader  may  remember  at  Cold  Harbor,  gave  him  a 
message  to  General  Lee. 

Farley  immediately  rode  back,  and  in  a  few  minutes  shots  were 
heard  in  that  quarter.  At  the  same  moment  Colonel  Wickham 
again  rode  up,  and  reported  the  enemy  rapidly  advancing  in  front. 

*  His  words. 


ONE  OF   STUART'S    "TIGHT   PLACES."     315 

Stuart's  position  was  now  critical.  lie  was  in  tlie  midst  of 
the  enemy's  infantry,  which  hemmed  him  in  in  front  and  on  his 
right;  night  had  descended,  making  any  cavalry  movement 
hazardous  ;  and  there  was  but  one  avenue  of  retreat,  the  narrow 
road  by  which  the  column  had  ascended  the  hill.  Now  the 
firing  had  come  from  that  direction.  The  enemy  appeared  to 
have  closed  in  upon  front  and  rear. 

I  afterward  remembered,  with  admiration,  the  coolness  and 
nonchalance  of  Stuart.  He  sat  with  one  leg  thrown  across  the 
pommel  of  his  saddle,  drummed  idly  with  his  fingers  upon  his 
knee,  and  seemed  to  be  reflecting.  It  is  impossible  to  imagine 
greater  sang-froid  than  his  appearance,  at  the  moment,  indicated.* 

"  Well,"  he  said,  at  length,  "  I  have  accomplished  the  object  I 
had  in  view,  and  we'll  go  back." 

But  the  march  back  was  in  column  of  platoons,  with  drawn 
sabres ! 

Halfway  down  the  narrow  road,  now  as  black  as  night,  firing 
came  from  the  advance-guard,  and  then  a  shont.  The  column 
pushed  on — shots  hissed  from  the  high  banks  on  either  side — 
then  the  column  debouched  into  the  plain. 

"What  was  our  astonishment  at  this  moment  to  hear  a  bugle 
tn  front  sound  the  "  charge!" 

Colonel  Lee,  commanding  the  regiment  left  behind,  took  us  for 
Federal  cavalry,  it  seemed,  and  nothing  but  the  presence  of 
mind  of  an  officer,  who  shouted  "Hold!"  prevented  a  bloody 
catastrophe. 

The  firing  we  had  heard  was  directed  at  Captain  Farley,  who 
was  also  in  great  danger  from  his  friends. 

So  much  for  night  operations  with  cavalry.  They  are  always 
hazardous.  I  have  recorded  this  little  incident,  however,  as 
characteristic  of  Stuart's  coolness  and  self-possession. 

I  said  to  him,  long  afterward  : 

"  General,  you  did  not  seem  to  think  your  command  in  any 
danger  that  night  at  Flint  Hill.  I  thought  it  in  great  dan- 
ger." 

*  This  whole  sketch  is  historical. 


316  SURRY    OF   EAGLE'S-NEST. 

"You  are  right,"  was  his  reply,  in  alow  tone,  with  a  short 
laugh.     "I  tell  you,  Surry,  that  was  a  tight  place!"  * 


LXXXIX. 

IN  WHICH  THE  WRITER  GETS  OVER  A  GREAT  DEAL  OP 

GROUND. 

At  nightfall  Jackson  had  driven  the  enemy  before  him,  with 
heavy  loss,  including  two  of  their  best  officers — Generals  Kearney 
and  Stevens ;  and  at  dawn  on  the  next  morning  the  troops 
advanced  upon  Fairfax  Oourt-House. 

The  enemy  had  retreated  during  the  night,  and  the  inhabitants 
received  their  deliverers  with  shouts  of  joy. 

Thus  the  work  was  ended  for  the  present  upon  the  soil  of  Vir- 
ginia ;  and  General  Lee  immediately  put  his  army  in  motion  for 
Maryland. 

Four  or  five  days  afterward,  the  Southern  column  forded  the 
Potomac  near  Leesburg,  with  the  bands  playing  "  Maryland,  my 
Maryland,"  and  the  advance  force  pushed  on  and  occupied  Fred- 
erick City. 

Maryland  did  not  receive  us  with  arms  very  wide  open ;  and 
few,  very  few,  ranged  themselves  under  the  "  bonnie  blue  flag." 
But  let  not  that  old  bitterness  make  me  unjust.  It  was  the 
Union  portion  of  the  State  which  we  entered.  In  the  lower 
counties  and  on  the  Eastern  Shore  there  was  a  different  popula- 
tion :  there  they  were  friends,  here  they  were — neutrals  or 
enemies. 

For  the  Maryland  campaign  in  all  its  details,  see  the  histories. 
Here  is  an  outline  : 

From  Frederick  City,  Jackson  was  sent  to  make  a  detour,  by 
way  of  Williamsport  and  Martinsburg,  to  the  rear  of  Harper's 
Ferry,  where  there  were  about  eleven  thousand  Federal  troops 
and  a  large  amount  of  artillery.  The  result  is  known.  While 
General  Lee  was  opposing  the  advance  of  McOlellan  at  South 

*His  words. 


SHARPSBURG.  317 

Mountain,  Jackson  was  closely  investing  Harper's  Ferry.  When 
he  had  ringed  it  round  with  artillery  and  opened  upon  it  from 
every  side,  the  Federal  commander  lost  heart,  and  surrendered 
his  eleven  thousand  men  and  seventy-three  guns. 
■  As  the  place  fell,  McClellan  hurst  through  to  its  relief.  But  it 
was  too  late.  Jackson's  heavy  arm  had  fallen.  The  place  was 
in  his  hands,  and,  leaving  a  portion  of  Lis  force  to  hold  it,  ho 
returned  by  a  forced  march  to  Sharpsburg,  where  General  Lee 
had  concentrated  his  whole  available  force  to  fight  McClellan. 

You  know,  my  dear  reader,  what  followed.  Thirty-three  thou- 
sand Southerners  fought  eighty-seven  thousand  there  at  Sharps- 
burg, on  a  September  day,  and  repulsed,  from  morn  to  even- 
ing, every  assault.  These  figures  are  General  Lee's  for  his  own 
force— General  McClellan's  for  that  of  the  Federals.  Thus  the 
Confederates  fought  nearly  three  to  one  at  Sharpsburg. 

Jackson,  on  our  left,  sustained  the  brunt  of  the  attack.  See 
General  McClellan's  report,  where  he  says  his  great  assault  was 
with  his  right  wing.  Had  he  given  way,  the  result  would  have 
been  well  nigh  fatal.  As  it  was,  he  drove  General  Hooker  half  a 
mile,  and  at  night  wras  rooted  immovably  in  his  first  position. 

Lee  remained  in  line  of  battle  on  the  ensuing  day,  facing  his 
great  adversary.  General  McClellan  says  that  the  condition  of 
his  own  army  rendered  a  renewal  of  the  battle  impossible. 

On  the  next  morning  General  Lee  recrossed  the  Potomac,  and, 
crowning  the  heights  with  his  artillery,  challenged  them  to  at- 
tempt to  cross.  The  attempt  was  made,  and  in  an  hour  the 
column  was  driven  into  and  across  the  river  again,  with  the 
bayonet. 

That  was  the  first  and  last  attempt  which  was  made  to  follow 
General  Lee. 

He  collected  his  straggling  and  broken-down  men,  rested  and 
provisioned  his  army,  and,  if  the  season  had  been  June  instead 
of  October,  would  have  advanced  upon  Pennsylvania. 

As  it  was,  he  rested. 


318  SURRY    OF    EAGLE'S-NEST. 

xc. 

HAMPTON  CHARGES,  AND  I  "GO  UNDER." 

I  did  not  witness  the  greater  portion  of  the  events  just  narrated 
in  brief  outline,  and  for  a  reason  which  I  will  now  proceed  to  give. 

At  the  moment  when  Jackson's  column  approached  Williams- 
port,  on  his  march  to  Harper's  Ferry,  I  was  sent  back  to  General 
Lee,  then  beyond  the  South  Mountain,  with  a  message. 

I  found  the  army  in  motion  by  way  of  Boonsboro',  in  the  direc- 
tion of  Hagerstown,  and  was  informed  that  General  Lee  was 
with  the  cavalry  rear-guard,  then  retiring  from  Frederick  City. 
before  the  advance  of  General  McClellan. 

A  ride  through  the  Boonsboro'  Gap  and  Catoctin  Mountain 
brought  me  to  the  cavalry,  and  I  delivered  my  message  to  Gen- 
eral Lee,  which  fortunately  required  no  reply. 

Fortunately,  I  say,  for  I  now  found  that  my  horse  was  com- 
pletely broken  down,  and  wholly  unfit  to  take  me  back  at  once 
over  the  difficult  mountain  road. 

I  accordingly  looked  about  for  an  inviting  farm-house,  the 
abode  of  some  good  Marylander  with  Southern  proclivities,  where 
I  could  procure  a  feed,  and  soon  discovered  a  promising-looking 
mansion.  It  was  a  fine  old  house,  embowered  in  trees,  on  the 
eastern  slope  of  the  Catoctin  Mountain ;  and  the  ample  barns 
seemed  to  say,  "  Come,  there  is  plenty  here,  and  to  spare." 
Without  further  hesitation  I  rode  up  to  the  wide  gate,  entered 
a  broad  avenue,  and  soon  found  myself  in  front  of  a  large  por- 
tico, upon  which  a  hale  old  gentleman  was  standing. 

My  wants  were  made  known,  and  I  met  with  the  most  friendly 
reception. 

"  Your  horse  shall  be  attended  to  immediately,  sir,"  was  the 
smiling  and  hospitable  reply.  "  Come  in — come  in.  These  are 
terrible  times,  sir — and  you  must  be  hungry,  too." 

My  host  then  called  lustily  for  a  servant,  who  speedily  appear- 
ed, gave  him  directions  in  reference  to  my  horse,  and  then  led 
the  way  into  the  house,  where  an  inviting  meal  was  soon  spread 


HAMPTON    CHARGES.  319 

by  the  hands  of  an  old  housekeeper.     This  elderly  lady  and  my 
host  seemed  the  only  inmates  of  the  mansion. 

"Terrible  times,  terrible  times,"  repeated  my  host.  "The 
enemy  seem  to  be  coming  right  on.  General  Lee  is  falling  back, 
is  he  not?" 

I  never  liked  to  answer  questions  propounded  by  strangers — 
that  should  be  one  of  the  first  principles  of  a  soldier,  and  much 
more  of  a  staff  officer. 

"  The  army  is  not  far  from  this  spot,"  I  replied. 

The  old  gentleman  smiled. 

"  I  see  you  are  prudent,"  he  said ;  "  but  your  caution  is  quite 
unnecessary.  I  am  a  Southerner,  heart  and  soul,  and  have  a  son 
in  your  army." 

"  I  may  know  him,  and  be  able  to  give  you  some  news  of  him, 
sir." 

"  It  would  greatly  delight  me.  I  fear  something  has  happened  to 
him,  as  he  has  not  been  here  with  the  army.  My  name  is  Saltoun !" 

"Indeed!     And  is  your  son's  name  Harry,  Mr.  Saltoun?" 

"  Yes,  sir — where  is  he  ?"  asked  the  old  gentleman,  with  acute 
anxiety.     "You  have  no  bad  news  to  give  me  ?" — 

"  No,  no.  He  is  wounded,  but  it  is  a  trifle.  He  is  in  the 
hands  of  friends." 

And,  giving  my  name  and  position  in  the  army,  I  informed  Mr. 
Saltoun  of  the  young  man's  wound  and  present  whereabouts.  He 
listened  with  anxious  interest,  and,  when  I  had  finished,  exclaimed : 

"Thank  God  that  he  is  safe." 

"  He  is  perfectly  so." 

"  These  are  awful  times,  Major,"  added  my  good  host.  "  Awful 
times !  We  never  know  whether  our  sons  are  alive  or  dead. 
Harry  is  the  light  of  my  eyes — all  I  have  left  in  my  old  age — and 
it  would  break  me  down  if  he  was  killed.  So  you  know  him 
well,  and  say  he  is  brave — but  I  knew  that.  He  was  always 
fearless  from  his  childhood ;  and  when  the  war  broke  out  I  could 
not  keep  him  at  home.     Do  you  expect  to  see  him  soon  ?" 

I  replied  that  I  doubtless  should  meet  him  again  in  a  few  weeks, 
on  his  return  to  his  command—whereupon  the  old  gentleman  asked 
if  I  could  carry  him  his  watch,  which  he  had  left  behind  him. 


320  SURRY    OF    EAGLE  'S-NEST. 

"  He  values  it  greatly,"  added  Mr.  Saltoun  ;  "  and,  if  you  will 
take  charge  of  it,  he  will  be  greatly  obliged  to  you." 

"  I  will  do  so  with  great  pleasure,  and  tell  him  that  you  are 
well"— 

"  And  wish  to  see  him  soon,"  added  the  old  gentleman,  heartily. 
'"  This  is  a  terrible  war — a  very  terrible  war,  indeed,  sir!" 

And  the  speaker  shook  his  head  in  a  most  expressive  manner, 
and,  rising,  unlocked  a  mahogany  secretary,  from  which  he  took 
a  handsome  gold  watch,  set  with  jewels. 

This  ho  intrusted  to  me,  with  many  cautions  against  losing  it. 

"  Harry  would  not  mind  the  mere  value  of  the  watch,  sir," 
he  said,  "  nor  would  I.  But  he  has  had  this  since  his  boyhood, 
and  attaches  a  peculiar  value  to  it." 

I  had  just  assured  my  kind  host  that  I  would  take  especial 
care  of  the  watch,  when  firing  was  heard  in  front,  and  I  rose. 
My  horse  was  soon  brought,  and  I  had  scarcely  bidden  my  host 
good-by,  and  mounted,  when  a  long  column  of  cavalry  was  seen 
to  defile  by  the  outer  gate,  in  the  direction  of  Frederick  City, 
and  at  their  head  I  recognized  General  Wade  Hampton. 

I  rode  out  and  joined  him.  For  this  brave  cavalier  of  South 
Carolina  I  had  always  experienced  a  very  great  respect  and  re- 
gard, since  the  noble  stand  which  he  made  at  the  first  battle  of 
Manassas;  and  I  had  enjoyed  the  satisfaction  of  receiving  from 
him  evidences  of  friendship  in  return.  He  had  changed  little. 
Before  me  was  the  same  erect  and  courteous  cavalier,  with  his 
flowing  black  mustache,  and  mild  yet  brilliant  eyes.  In  his 
simple  bearing,  full  of  suavity  and  repose,  you  read  no  indica- 
tions of  the  hard  and  stubborn  spirit  of  "  fight "  which,  in  every 
encounter,  took  him  to  the  front,  and  made  him  charge,  like  a 
private  soldier,  and  "come  to  the  sabre." 

I  was  soon  informed  of  the  state  of  affairs.  General  Lee  was 
retiring,  and  General  McClellan  pressing  on.  The  enemy  were 
already  in  Frederick  City,  and  their  artillery  had  opened  -upon 
the  cavalry  toward  the  Catoctin  Mountain. 

"I  am  going  to  charge  and  capture  it,  Major,"  said  General 
Hampton.     "  Will  you  see  the  charge?" 

"  I  would  not  miss  it,  General." 


HAMPTON    CHARGES.  321 

And  we  continued  to  advance,  the  enemy's  artillery  roaring 
sullenly  in  front. 

All  at  once,  as  the  head  of  the  column  reached  the  summit  of  a 
hill,  Frederick  City  appeared  in  front,  the  fields  around  swarming 
with  the  dark  figures  of  the  Federal  soldiers. 

Above  the  mass  rose  the  white  smoke  of  the  artillery,  which 
was  pouring  a  heavy  fire  upon  the  Southern  rear-guard,  falling 
back  before  the  furious  attacks  of  the  Federal  cavalry. 

Hampton  turned  and  said  a  few  words  to  the  officer  command- 
ing his  column.  He  was  a  young  man  of  twenty-three  or  four, 
with  sparkling  black  eyes,  raven  hair  and  mustache,  and  a  bear- 
ing which  showed  him  every  inch  the  soldier.  "  Do  or  die  "  spoke 
in  the  flashing  eye,  the  laughing  lip,  and  the  firm  clutch  of  the 
sabre.  Such  was  the  gay  and  gallant  Georgian,  P.  M.  B.  Young, 
whose  charge  at  Fleetwood  afterward  saved  the  fortunes  of  that 
desperate  day,  and  covered  the  young  cavalier  all  over  with  glory. 

"Colonel  Young,"  said  Hampton,  "I  am  going  to  charge 
those  guns  at  once." 

"Ready,  sir!"  was  the  answer;  and,  turning  to  his  men, 
Young  ordered : 

"  Form  fours  !  draw  sabre!" 

The  column  was  ready — and,  sword  in  hand,  General  Hampton 
placed  himself  at  its  head. 

The  admirable  serenity  of  his  countenance  had  not  altered  in 
the  least  degree.  Under  that  courteous  and  tranquil  glance  was 
the  stubborn  will  which  would  not  bend. 

A  moment's  pause  ;  a  few  rapid  orders  ;  a  quick  clash  of  steel, 
as  hundreds  of  sabres  flashed  from  their  scabbards,  and  then,  at 
a  steady  trot,  which,  in  a  few  minutes,  became  a  headlong  gallop, 
the  column  rushed  to  the  charge. 

The  weight  of  the  column,  with  Hampton  leading,  swept  away 
the  Federal  cavalry  in  front,  as  leaves  are  swept  by  the  wind ; 
and  then,  amid  loud  shouts  and  the  incessant  crack  of  carbines, 
the  Southern  horsemen  closed  in  upon  the  very  muzzles  of  the 
artillery. 

The  sudden  and  desperate  charge  carried  all  before  it.  The 
men  received  without  faltering  the  storm  of  canister  hurled  in 
14* 


322  SURRY    OF    EAGLE'S-NEST. 

their  faces,  rushed  upon  the  guns,  and  in  an  instant  they  had 
cut  down  or  dispersed  the  cannoneers  serving  them.* 

The  artillery  was  captured,  but  in  the  charge  all  the  horses 
had  been  killed,  and  it  could  not  bo  brought  off.  Nor  could  the 
Confederate  column  hold  its  ground.  The  Federal  infantry  was 
seen  double-quicking  across  the  fields,  and  Hampton  was  com- 
pelled to  relinquish  his  prize  and  fall  slowly  back. 

As  he  did  so,  a  hot  fire  was  opened  upon  him  by  the  Federal  in- 
fantry, and  then  came  the  close  and  menacing  roar  of  their  artil- 
lery, and  the  crash  of  bursting  shell  in  the  midst  of  the  column. 

Nothing  is  more  disagreeable  than  to  "  fall  back  under  fire." 
The  hurry,  uproar,  and  shouts  of  the  pursuers  are  thoroughly 
disgusting.  The  enemy  now  pressed  on,  and  the  air  was  full  of 
balls  and  bursting  shell.  Suddenly  I  was  deafened  by  a  crash 
like  a  falling  mountain,  within  a  few  feet  of  me,  and  my  horse, 
with  one  agonized  leap  into  the  air,  fell  writhing  in  the  death 
agony.  A  shell  had  burst  almost  on  him — a  huge  fragment  torn 
through  his  body,  just  behind  the  saddle — the  animal  lay  upon 
the  road,  a  mangled  and  bleeding  mass,  struggling  in  death. 

All  this  I  saw  only  some  moments  afterward.  I  was  thrown, 
violently  stunned  for  the  time,  and,  when  I  rose,  found  myself  in 
the  hands  of  the  Federal  soldiers,  who  greeted  my  unlucky 
plight,  as  they  still  pressed  on,  with  jests  and  laughter. 

A  guard  conducted  me  back  to  Frederick  City,  where  I  was 
taken  before  the  provost-marshal,  and  my  name  and  rank  re- 
corded. I  was  then  locked  up  in  a  filthy  den,  with  many  other 
Confederates,  and,  weary  with  my  long  ride,  lay  down  on  the 
bare  floor  and  fell  asleep. 

A  hand  on  my  shoulder  waked  me.  I  looked  up — the  light 
of  sunset  shone  on  the  wall. 

"  Are  you  Major  Surry?" 

"  Yes." 

"  You  are  wanted." 

And  my  guard  opened  the  door,  and  led  the  way  out  of  the  pri- 
son.    Five  minutes  walk  brought  us  to  a  handsome  house,  which  I 

*  Historical. 


GENERAL    McCLELLAN.  823 

knew,  from  the  horses  hefore  the  door  and  the  number  of  persons 
who  came  and  went,  was  the  head-quarters  of  some  general.  A 
moment  afterward  I  was  in  the  presence  of  General  McClellan. 


XCI 


I   EXCHANGE    VIEWS    WITH    GENERAL   McCLELLAN. 

The  commander  of  the  Federal  Army  was  entirely  alone,  in  a 
private  room.  When  I  was  announced,  he  rose  from  a  table  at 
which  he  had  been  writing,  and  bowed. 

He  was  a  man  of  thirty-five  or  forty,  of  medium  height,  with 
a  well-knit  frame,  and  the  erect  carriage  of  the  West-Pointer. 
His  countenance  was  pleasant  and  attractive,  with  its  frank  eyes, 
smiling  lips,  over  which  fell  a  brown  mustache,  and  broad,  open 
brow.  General  McClellan  was  evidently  a  gentleman  by  birth 
and  breeding.  His  smile  was  cordial,  his  bearing  easy  and 
natural — his  whole  appearance  calculated  to  win  confidence. 

"Major  Surry,  I  believe,"  he  said,  and  I  bowed. 

"  Take  a  seat,  Major.  I  heard  of  your  capture,  and  that  you 
belong  to  General  Jackson's  staff.  He  is  an  old  West-Point 
friend  of  mine,  and  a  very  great  man,  too — how  is  he  ?" 

'•  Perfectly  well,  General." 

"  And  on  his  way  to  Harper's  Perry,  I  suppose." 

The  General  laughed  as  he  spoke,  and  seemed  to  enjoy  my 
look  of  surprise. 

"What  an  idea,  General !" 

"And  Longstreet,"  continued  General  McClellan,  "he  is  an 
old  acquaintance  of  mine,  too.     He  has  gone  toHagerstown?" 

I  bit  my  lips.  Where  did  the  Federal  commander  procure 
this  information  ? 

"  Let  me  see,"  he  continued,  with  the  air  of  a  man  who  is 
making  a  calculation.  "  Jackson  ought  to  be  beyond  Williams- 
port  by  this  time — Longstreet  near  Hagerstown,  and  Walker  in 
position  on  Loudoun  Heights.     If  McLaws  is  a  pushing  man,  he 


324  SUEEY    OF    EAGLE'S-NEST. 

is  in  possession  of  Maryland  Heights — and  Stuart  holds  Boons- 
boro'  and  Crampton's  Gap,  to  keep  me  off  of  Harper's  Ferry 
until  it  falls." 

I  listened  with  a  sort  of  stupefaction.  General  McOlellan 
was  describing,  with  perfect  accuracy  and  entire  nonchalance, 
General  Lee's  entire  programme,  as  set  forth  in  confidential 
orders  to  his  corps  commanders.     The  enemy  knew  all. 

"  You  do  not  reply,  Major,"  said  General  McOlellan. 

"It  is  not  my  affair,"  I  replied,  with  a  gloom  and  sullenness 
which  I  could  not  control. 

"  But  is  my  information  accurate  ?" 

"Ask  some  one  else,  sir!" 

General  McOlellan  dropped  his  tone  of  banter,  and  said 
courteously : 

"  I  do  not  desire  to  extract  any  information  from  you,  Major, 
and  it  would  be  useless.  The  carelessness  of  one  of  your  gene- 
rals has  put  me  in  possession  of  General  Lee's  entire  plan  of 
campaign,  and  I  play  the  game  from  this  moment  with  a  full 
knowledge  of  my  adversary's  designs.     Look,  Major." 

And,  taking  from  the  table  a  paper,  he  handed  it  to  me. 

It  was  General  Lee's  confidential  order  of  march  for  the 
different  columns  of  his  army!  The  copy  of  the  order  was 
directed  to  General  D.  II.  Hill,  and  had  been  left  by  him,  or 
some  one  of  his  command,  at  Frederick  City."* 

"It  is  useless  to  deny  the  authenticity  of  this  paper,  General," 
I  said,  after  glancing  at  it,  "and  it  gives  you  a  fatal  advantage." 

General  McOlellan  stretched  himself  in  his  chair,  Avith  the  air 
of  a  man  who  wishes  to  talk,  and  said  philosophically  : 

"There  are  very  few  'fatal  advantages'  in  war,  Major — and  I 
assure  you  that,  with  adversaries  like  Lee  and  Jackson,  nothing 
in  the  future  ever  seems  certain  to  me.  I  ought  to  whip  Lee, 
holding  as  I  do  that  chart  of  his  designs — but  will  I?" 

"  I  sincerely  hope  not." 

"Ah!  you  are  recovering  your  good  humor,"  laughed  the 
General.     "  Well,  I  don't  know  what  the  result  will  be,  but  I 

*  Historical. 


GENEPwAL   McCLELLAN.  325 

shall  'ose  no  time.  Jackson  is  detached,  and  I  shall  probably 
attack  General  Lee  before  he  comes  up.1' 

"  He  almost  always  arrives  in  time,  General." 

"As  at  Cold  Harbor,"  was  the  cool  response.  "That  was  a 
movement  worthy  of  Lee's  brain  and  Jackson's  arm.  My  dear 
Major,  I  begin  to  think  that  we  have  got  the  sound  principles, 
and  you  the  great  men." 

I  smiled — for  there  was  something  in  the  frank  voice  of  the 
General  which  produced  good  humor. 

"Do  you  know,  General,  that  you  are  challenging  me  to  an 
argument  on  the  virtue  or  wickedness  of  secession  < 

"  Not  at  all,  not  at  all.  I  really  never  annoy  myself  with  these 
abstractions.  I  am  a  mere  fighting  man,  you  perceive,  Major, 
and  follow  my  flag." 

"  And  we  follow  ours,  General." 

"  Very  well ;  and  I  suppose  we  will  have  to  fight  it  out.  But 
I  trust  we  shall  do  so  like  civilized  people  and  gentlemen.  I  in- 
tend to  break  down  the  military  strength  of  the  Southern  Con- 
federacy, if  I  can,  and  overthrow  the  whole  political  fabric  with 
the  bayonet  and  cannon.  But,  I  will  not  adopt  for  my  motto, 
Vcb  victis,  and,  now  or  hereafter,  make  war  upon  non-combat- 
anto." 

"  What  of  the  negroes — do  you  approve  of  emancipating  and 
arming  them?" 

"  1  am  a  soldier,  Major,  and  rarely  indulge  in  the  luxury  of  an 
opinion,"  laughed  the  General.  "Let  the  political  errors  of  the 
Administration  be  righted  at  tlve  ballot-box.  "* 

"  And  when  we  are  conquered — for  you  are  sure  of  the  result, 
are  you  not,  General?" 

"  I  think  that  will  be  t\vsJinaU  in  the  long  run.  The  North  is 
rich,  persevering,  and  more  populous  than  the  South." 

'  What  would  you  do  with  the  rebels,  in  that  unfortunate 
event  ?'' 

"  I  would  proclaim  universal  amnesty,  and  say  to  the  people 
of  the  South,  '  We  have  fought  hard,  let  us  be  friends  again.'  " 

"  Your  views  at  least  are  liberal,  whatever  may  be  the  result. '"' 

*  His  words. 


326  SURRY    OF    EAGLE  S   NEST. 

"They  are  rational,  Major.  The  statesman  who  cannot  look 
beyond  the  petty  hatreds  and  rivalries  of  the  present  is  a  ninny. 
Suppose  the  Confederacy  is  overthrown,  and  the  Southern  States 
accept  in  good  faith  the  result,  as  a  fair  decision  after  a  fair 
fight ;  suppose  they  return  to  the  Union,  and  honestly  take  the 
oath  of  allegiance ;  is  it  good  sense  or  puerile  blundering — which 
— to  insist  upon  treating  a  great,  proud  nation  as  a  conquered 
race?  It  is  the  civilians  who  have  never  smelt  gunpowder  that 
believe  the  South  won't  fight  if  she's  trodden  on.  The  choice 
will  be  between  smouldering,  eternal,  watchful  hate,  ready  to 
break  out  in  armed  revolution  again,  or  an  open,  frank,  and 
honest  union  between  the  South  and  the  North— the  herald  of 
greater  prosperity  and  power  for  all  the  nation  than  before.  That 
union  will  take  place,  that  prosperity  be  seen  in  our  day.  All  that 
is  needed  is  to  sweep  away  the  buzzing  and  stinging  insects  of 
the  moment,  and  the  new  era  will  commence  in  all  its  glory." 

General  McClellan  spoke  with  animation,  and  his  frank  face 
was  turned  full  upon  me.     Then,  as  he  caught  my  eye,  he  smiled. 

"  I  understand  your  look,  Major,"  he  said ;  "  you  think  I  am 
counting  the  Federal  chickens  before  they  are  hatched,  and  fore- 
casting events  which  will  never  take  place.  Well  and  good— 
we  think  differently.  We  are  going  to  beat  you  by  numbers- 
forewarned,  forearmed.  Now  let  us  talk  of  Jackson.  What  a 
surprising  career !  We  thought  nothing  of  him  at  West  Point, 
and  here  he  is  taking  the  wind  out  of  all  our  sails.  Were  you 
with  him  in  his  Valley  campaign?" 

"  Throughout,  General." 

"  That  campaign  surpasses  every  thing  else  in  the  war." 

And  the  conversation  turned  upon  other  acquaintances  of  the 
General  in  the  Southern  army,  about  whom  he  seemed  to  have 
much  curiosity. 

The  interview  lasted  until  nine  or  ten  o'clock,  the  General 
dispatching  such  business  as  came  before  him  with  rapidity  and 
decision.  I  could  only  ascertain  that  his  forces  were  pressing 
forward  toward  Boonsboro'  and  Crampton's  Gap,  and  that  lie  in- 
tended, if  possible,  to  bring  General  Lee  to  an  engagement  before 
he  was  re-enforced  by  Jackson. 


WHAT    FOLLOWED.  327 

When  I  parted  with  the  General,  he  frankly  held  out  his  hand 
and  said: 

"  We  are  soldiers,  Major,  and  can  shake  hands  on  the  eve  of 
battle.  I  regret  your  capture,  hut  will  see  that  you  are  sub- 
jected to  no  annoyance.  When  you  see  Jackson,  present  my 
respects  to  him,  and  tell  him  that  I  hope  to  meet  him  at  Phi- 
lippi." 

"  I  will  do  so,  General.     But  take  care — his  embrace  is  fatal !" 

*'  W,    will  see,"  was  the  smiling  reply;  and  so  we  parted. 


XCII. 

WHAT     FOLLOWED. 

The  next  morning  I  was  placed,  with  other  Confederate  pris- 
oners, upon  a  train  of  cars,  which  came  up  from  Baltimore  to  a 
point  near  Frederick  City ;  and  no  sooner  had  I  observed  the 
arrangements  made  for  guarding  the  prisoners,  than  I  resolved 
to  attempt  to  escape. 

The  carriages  in  which  we  were  placed  were  "  passenger  cars," 
with  wide  windows,  quite  sufficient  to  permit  the  passage  of  a 
man's  body  ;  and  I  saw  at  a  glance  that,  if  I  could  avoid  attract- 
ing the  attention  of  the  infantry  guard  at  the  doors,  I  could  pass 
my  body  through  one  of  the  apertures.  Then,  as  this  could  only 
be  effected,  with  any  chance  of  escape,  while  the  train  was  in 
motion,  I  must  take  the  probable  results  of  a  heavy  fall.  That 
fall  might  break  my  neck,  or  my  limbs ;  but  something  has  to  be 
risked  in  war  ;  and  the  horrors  of  a  Northern  prison  loomed  up 
in  hideous  colors  before  my  eyes.     I  resolved  to  risk  every  thing. 

The  train  was  soon  full  of  prisoners,  and  in  motion  toward 
Baltimore.  I  made  a  reconnoissance  of  my  surroundings.  Every 
seat  was  filled,  and  the  air  was  so  close  that  many  of  the  win- 
dows had  been  opened.  Up  and  down  the  aisle  between  tho 
seats  walked  a  Federal  guard,  with  musket  and  bayonet.  At 
each  door  stood  another,  armed  in  the  same  manner. 

I  shall  not  further  trouble  the  reader  with  the  difficulties  I  en- 


328  SURRY    OF    EAGLE'S-NEST. 

countered  in  the  undertaking  which  I  had  resolved  upon.  After 
all,  the  design  was  not  so  critical  or  dangerous  ;  and  hundreds  of 
prisoners  escaped  during  the  war  precisely  in  the  manner  I  did. 

Watching  my  moment  when  the  sentinel's  back  was  turned, 
and  the  train  was  passing  through  a  belt  of  woods,  I  passed  my 
body  through  the  open  window,  threw  myself  out,  and  fell  vio- 
lently to  the  ground. 

As  I  rose,  stunned  and  bewildered,  but  with  no  bones  broken, 
a  musket  was  discharged  from  the  train,  which  had  swept  on, 
and  a  bullet  whistled  by  my  head  ;  then  another  followed,  and  I 
heard  that  grating  sound  which  is  made  by  the  iron  wheels  of  a 
railroad  train  when  the  brakes  are  put  on  to  check  it. 

It  was  too  late,  however.  I  was  far  behind,  and,  hastening 
into  the  woods,  I  went  on  rapidly,  until  the  railroad  was  many 
miles  distant. 

So  far  I  was  safe.  "What  remained  now  was,  to  elude  the 
patrols  and  scouting-parties  of  the  enemy,  who  would  instantly 
discover  my  identity  from  my  gray  uniform.  To  avoid  all  &uch 
dangerous  people,  I  plunged  deeper  into  the  woods,  and,  reaching 
a  secluded  dell,  through  which  ran  a  small  watercourse,  selected 
a  clump  of  bushes,  and,  worn  out  with  my  rapid  march,  lay  down 
upon  the  cool  turf  to  rest. 

My  intention  was  to  remain  thus  perdu  until  night,  to  avoid 
scouting-parties ;  and  I  had  begun  to  think  rather  ruefully  of  tha 
tremendous  tramp  before  me,  all  the  way  to  Leesburg,  when  I 
heard  the  sound  of  horses'  hoofs,  and  cautiously  looked  out  from 
my  covert. 

Two  Federal  cavalry-men  had  entered  the  glade,  attracted  by 
the  green  grass  and  flowing  stream,  and  in  a  moment  I  saw  them 
stop,  unbridle  their  horses,  and  turn  them  loose  to  graze. 

The  men  then  lay  down  in  the  sunshine,  and  began  conversing 
idly. 

I  was  within  twenty  paces,  and  heard  every  word  which  they 
uttered,  but  understood  nothing.  The  explanation  of  the  fact  is 
very  simple.  The  newcomers  were  two  stolid  young  Dutchmen, 
evidently  raw  recruits,  and  they  spoke  in  the  genuine  guttural  of 
the  Fatherland. 


WHAT    FOLLOWED.  329 

In  half  an  hour  they  ceased  talking,  stretched  themselves 
prone  on  the  grass,  and  a  low  thunder  through  the  nose  proved 
that,  overcome  hy  the  warm  sunshine,  and  the  fatigue  probably 
of  a  march,  they  had  fallen  asleep. 

Suddenly,  as  I  gazed  out  cautiously  upon  the  slumbering  Teu-  . 
tons,  I  thought,  "Why  not  capture  these  two  worthies?"  The 
affair  was  not  difficult.  I  saw  that  they  had  unbuckled  the  belts 
around  their  portly  persons,  laid  their  weapons  aside,  and,  if 
once  I  was  in  possession  of  their  pistols,  the  thing  was  decided. 
Why  not? — and,  raising  my  head  cautiously,  I  reconnoitred 
again. 

The  men  were  sleeping  as  sound  as  the  seven  champions  of 
Christendom,  and  I  no  longer  hesitated.  Eising  without  noise, 
I  listened,  advanced  from  the  covert,  and  then  with  three 
bounds  reached  the  spot  and  seized  the  weapons  of  the  cavalry- 
men. 

The  noise  woke  them,  and  they  started  up,  but  it  was  oidy  to 
find  a  cocked  pistol  as  their  breasts.  They  were  my  prisoners, 
and  as  harmless  as  lambs. 

No  time  was  now  lost.  I  ordered  the  men  by  signs  to  bridle 
up,  and  this  they  did  with  an  air  of  perfect  indifference ;  they 
rode  Government  horses. 

By  this  time  I  had  taken  my  resolution.  Ordering  one  of  the 
men,  as  before,  to  take  off  his  blue  coat,  I  put  it  on,  strapping 
my  own  behind  one  of  the  saddles,  and  then  directing  the  other 
prisoner  to  mount,  I  got  into  the  saddle  of  the  second  horse, 
leaving  the  coatless  personage  to  make  his  way  back  as  he  could 
to  his  command.  I  set  forward  rapidly,  with  my  mounted  pris- 
oner toward  the  Potomac. 

We  travelled  all  that  night,  meeting  no  one — were  chased  the 
next  morning  by  a  Federal  scouting-party,  but  outran  them,  and 
finally  I  reached  and  crossed  the  river  at  Leesburg,  and  was  once 
more  within  the  Southern  lines. 

Does  the  reader  regard  this  adventure  as  indicative  of  "  dash," 
"nerve,"  &c,  &c,  in  Major  Surry?  Not  at  all.  There  was  no 
more  difficulty  in  capturing  those  men  after  once  securing  their 
>rms,  than  in  letting  them  finish  thair  nap.     They  were  con- 


330  SURRY    OF    E  AGLE'S-NEST. 

• 

scripts,  riding  Government  horses,  and  averse  to  fighting,  much 
preferring  prison-life  and  regular  rations. 

I  delivered  up  my  prisoner  and  his  horse  to  a  quartermaster  at 
Leesburg,  and  then  rapidly  made  my  way  toward  the  Valley — ■ 
Harry  Saltoun's  watch  still  safe  upon  my  person. 

Grossing  the  Shenandoah,  opposite  Hillsboro',  I  pushed  on ; 
heard  that  Harper's  Ferry  had  fallen ;  and,  still  continuing  my 
way,  reached  the  Potomac  near  Sharpsburg  at  sunset,  to  find 
General  Lee's  defiant  lines  still  facing  the  enemy  after  the  tre- 
mendous struggle  of  that  memorable  day. 


XCIII. 

WHERE   AND  WITH   WHOM    I    SUPPED  ON  THE  NIGHT   OF 
THE  BATTLE  OF  SHARPSBURG. 

The  spectacle  which  met  my  eyes  as  I  reached  the  field  was 
imposing. 

Before  me  was  a  picturesque  valley,  hemmed  in  upon  the  east 
by  the  wooded  ramparts  of  the  South  Mountain,  and  traversed 
by  the  winding  current  of  the  Antietam.  On  every  eminence 
rose  farm-houses,  now  standing  boldly  out,  now  embowered  in 
trees.  The  light  green  of  nearly  ripe  corn,  the  deeper  green  of 
clover,  and  the  russet-brown  of  ploughed  land,  over  whiaii  the 
shadows  came  and  went,  made  up  a  landscape  which  must  have 
been  charming  only  the  day  before. 

Now  it  was  torn,  dismantled,  and  swept  bare  by  the  besom 
of  war.  All  day  the  opposing  battalions  had  charged  backward 
and  forward  through  those  smiling  fields  ;  from  behind  those 
peaceful  farm-houses,  now  crowded  with  the  dead  and  wounded, 
sharpshooters  had  delivered  their  hot  fire  ;  the  corn  was  trampled 
underfoot;  the  ground  ploughed  up  with  shot  and  shell;  the 
whole  face  of  nature  desolate. 

On  the  elevated  ground  extending  on  both  sides  of  the  Antie- 
tam were  drawn  up  the  hostile  lines  which  all  day  long  had 


WHERE    I    SUPPED.  331 

wrestled  to  and  fro  in  one  of  the  bloodiest  combats  of  history. 
Connecting  them  was  the  small  bridge  over  the  Antietam  which 
had  been  the  occasion  of  a  struggle  so  desperate,  of  which 
General  McClellan  had  said,  "  Tell  General  Burnside  to  hold  the 
bridge !  The  bridge  !  always  the  bridge !  If  that  is  lost,  all  is 
lost!" 

It  was  lost,  and  the  battle  with  it.  On  the  left,  Jackson  had 
held  his  ground  with  that  stubborn  and  unconquerable  resolution 
which  accomplishes  every  thing.  Stuart  had  driven  back  with 
his  artillery  upder  Pelham  the  advance  to  turn  Jackson's  flank ; 
the  sun  had  set,  the  conflict  was  over,  and  all  was  well. 

General  McClellan  had  attacked  and  been  repulsed.  That 
meant  defeat. 

Passing  along  the  lines  of  weary  but  laughing  troops,  cooking 
rations  at  their  camp-fires,  I  found  General  Jackson  busily  mas- 
ticating a  cracker  by  his  fire,  and  reported  the  cause  of  my 
absence. 

"Your  escape  was  truly  providential,  Major,"  he  said.  "We 
have  had  some  hard  fighting  in  your  absence,  but  have  held  our 
ground  here.  With  five  thousand  fresh  troops  I  think  we  could 
have  driven  the  enemy  from  his  position,  and  defeated  him." 

In  this  opinion  I  afterward  understood  that  General  Lee  co- 
incided.* 

The  General  then  proceeded  to  give  me  some  account  of  the 
action,  and  I  afterward  found  that  General  McClellan's  report 
fully  coincided  with  his  opinions.  The  Federal  commander  had 
massed  his  forces  under  Hooker  against  the  left,  where  Jackson 
was  posted,  and  the  failure  of  the  attack  in  that  portion  of  the 
field  decided  the  fate  of  the  day.  The  fighting  was  desperate, 
and  our  loss  terrible — as  was  that  of  the  enemy,  I  afterward  dis- 
covered, especially  in  officers ;  but  at  nightfall  Jackson  occu- 
pied the  ground  which  he  originally  held. 

"Our  friend  Stuart  has  performed  invaluable  services  to-day," 
said  the  General,  warmly ;  "he  is  a  very  great  soldier!  And 
that  youth,  Pelham!     You  know  him,  do  you  not?" 

*  Historical. 


332  SURRY    OF    EAGLE'S-NEST. 

"Intimately,  General. 

"  He  is  a  very  remarkable  young  man.  He  comman(5«d  to-day 
nearly  all  the  artillery  of  the  left  wing  of  the  army,  and  I  have 
never  seen  more  skilful  handling  of  guns.  It  is  really  extra- 
ordinary to  find  such  nerve  and  genius  in  a  mere  boy.  "With  a 
Pelham  on  each  flank,  I  believe  I  could  whip  the  world!"* 

These  words  delighted  me.  In  the  hurry  of  my  narrative  I 
have  not  spoken  of  the  warm  friendship  which  existed  between 
myself  and  the  noble  young  Alabamian ;  but,  with  every  fight  in 
which  I  witnessed  his  superb  and  headlong  courage,  his  coolness 
dash,  and  stubborn  persistence,  my  admiration  for  him  had 
increased. 

An  hour  after  my  arrival,  Jackson  sent  me  with  a  message  to 
Stuart,  all  his  other  staff-officers  being  absent  on  duty. 

I  found  the  commander  of  the  cavalry  lying  under  a  tree,  on 
his  red  blanket,  by  the  camp-fire,  laughing  and  talking  with  his 
staff.  His  enormous  physical  organization  never  seemed  to 
break  down ;  at  all  hours,  in  all  weather,  under  every  fatigue, 
Stuart  was  the  same  superb  war-machine,  which  nothing  could 
affect. 

He  laughed  heartily  at  the  narrative  of  my  escape,  and  said  : 

"You  ought  to  get  our  friend  Joyeuse"  (the  sobriquet  of  a 
member  of  his  staff)  "  to  write  your  adventures.  "Well,  we  have 
had  a  jolly  time  here,  and  nearly  whipped  them.  Pelham  has 
covered  himself  all  over  with  glory !" 

Two  Major-Generals  had  thus  chanted  the  boy's  praises, 
and  those  Major-Generals  were  called  Jackson  and  Stuart ! 

After  a  few  more  words  I  rose  and  bade  the  General  good- 
night. 

"Long  may  you  wave!"  was  his  gay  reply,  as  he  stretched 
himself  upon  his  blanket ;  and  I  rode  back  through  the  darkness. 
Stuart  had  spoken  in  ardent  terms  of  Pelham,  but  he  had  not 
referred  to  his  own  reckless  gallantry,  his  obstinate  stand  when 
Hooker  tried  to  turn  our  left,  and,  his  headlong  gallop  on  his 
beautiful   "  Lady  Margaret  "  across  the  front  of  a  Federal  regi- 

*  Hi  a  words. 


WITH    WHOM    I    SUPPED.  333 

toent,  who,  recognizing  his  high  rank,  poured  a  murderous  vollej 
tnto  him  at  the  distance  of  fifty  yards ! 

He  had  passed  unscathed.  The  fatal  hullet  was  not  moulded 
then,  which  struck  him  at  the  Yellow  Tavern. 

A  quarter  of  a  mile  from  Stuart's  bivouac,  I  passed  a  battalion 
of  artillery,  grimly  frowning  toward  the  enemy,  from  the  rising 
ground  where  it  was  placed  in  battery,  and,  when  I  asked  who 
commanded  it,  the  reply  was  "Pelham." 

Ten  paces  further  I  found  him  seated  by  the  camp-fire 
among  his  men,  and  laughing  gayly  with  a  young  Federal 
officer,  who  was  munching  a  cracker. 

As  I  approached,  the  officer  turned  round.  It  was  my 
brother  Will ! 

In  an  instant  he  had  risen,  and  with  all  the  ardor  of  a  boy 
thrown  his  arm  around  my  neck.  A  hundred  exclamations  of 
delight  followed,  a  hundred  questions  were  asked.  Will  seemed 
positively  overwhelmed  with  joy. 

His  presence  was  soon  explained.  A  company  of  Federal 
cavalry  had  charged  Pelham's  guns  that  day — Will  had  led 
them — and  one  of  the  cannoneers  had  coolly  swept  the  young 
lieutenant  from  his  saddle  with  a  sponge  staff.*  When  his 
company  retreated,  torn  to  pieces  by  Pelham's  canister,  Will  had 
remained  in  the  hands  of  his  enemies. 

In  the  commander  of  the  horse  artillery,  however,  he  had 
soon  discovered  an  old  comrade.  He  and  Pelham  had  been 
intimate  friends  at  West  Point,  just  before  the  war,  and  they 
met  each  other  with  a  shout  of  pleasure. 

Seated  by  the  camp-fire,  they  had  exchanged  a  thousand  jests 
and  recollections,  interspersed  with  boyish  laughter. 

"Well,"  said  Pelham,  as  he  stood  by  the  fire,  after  shaking 
hands  with  me,  "  that's  what  I  call  romantic !  I  thought  that 
my  meeting  with  Will  was  curious,  but  here  he  finds  his 
brother." 

"  And  the  best  brother  you  ever  saw!"  laughed  Will,  "if  he 
is  a  rebel !     I  wish  I  was  in  the  Southern  army." 


•F»ct 


334 


SURRY    OF    EAGLE'S-NEST. 


And,  passing  from  laughter  to  sighs,  the  boy  looked  gloomy. 

"Stop  all  that  talk,  "Will,"  said  Pelham.  "And  that  reminds 
me  that  we  have  had  no  supper.  We  live  splendidly  in  the 
Southern  army  generally — pheasants,  woodcock,  champagne, 
and  Havana  cigars,  for  regular  rations!  But  the  commissary 
seems  to  have  forgotten  us  to-night.  Suppose  we  go  over  to 
that  house  yonder,  and  get  something  better  than  hard  tack." 

"  All  right !"  was  the  gay  reply  of  Will  as  he  rose. 

"First,  however,"  said  Pelham,  with  mock  solemnity,  "I  will 
take  your  parole,  lieutenant,  not  to  communicate  directly  or 
indirectly  with  the  inhabitants  of  that  house." 

"Oh,  bother.!  Jack,"  was  the  reply;  "I  intend  to  ask  for  a 
drink  the  very  first  thing!" 

"  That  is  only  reasonable,"  returned  Pelham  laughing.  "  Come 
on,  Surry,  go  with  us." 

It  did  not  take  much  persuasion  to  induce  me  to  do  so,  and 
ten  minutes'  walk  brought  us  to  the  house — a  plain  but  elegant 
mansion,  evidently  the  residence  of  a  gentleman. 

I  was  still  absorbed  in  talking  with  Will — interrogating  him, 
replying  to  his  questions,  exchanging  a  hundred  laughing  or 
sighing  recollections — when  Pelham  was  heard  exclaiming  in  a 
low  tone  : 

"  Glorious  !  they  are  just  at  supper !" 

And  he  beckoned  to  me  to  come  to  the  window  and  look. 

Through  a  vine-clad  window,  I  saw  a  gentleman  and  his  family 
at  supper.  There  was  something  familiar  in  the  face  of  one 
of  the  young  ladies,  but  I  could  not  see  her  very  distinctly.  1 
soon  had  a  better  opportunity.  Pelham  had  gone  and  knocked, 
and  the  old  gentleman  rose  and  came  to  the  door. 

As  soon  as  he  saw  us  he  evidently  comprehended  the  object  of 
our  visit,  and  very  courteously  invited  us  to  come  in  to  supper. 

We  entered,  and  what  was  my  surprise  to  see  Will  suddenly 
run  forward,  and,  with  all  the  abandon  of  a  boy,  throw  his  arms 
around  the  young  lady  whose  face  I  thought  I  had  recognized ! 

The  embrace  was  followed  by  an  astounding  explosion  in  the 
way  of  a  kiss — and  then  a  grand  tableau!  The  young  girl 
blushing  to  the  whites  of  her  eyes,  a  second  damsel  standing 


WITH    WHOM    I    SUPPED.  335 

primly  erect,  the  old  gentleman  utterly  dumbfounded,  the  old 
lady  holding  up  her  hands,  and  a  pretty  little  girl  of  about  ten, 
■with  a  quantity  of  bright  curls,  looking  with  eyes  of  wild  amaze- 
ment at  the  spectacle. 

Every  historian  owes  his  reader  an  explanation  of  whatever  is 
obscure.  The  meaning  of  all  this  scene  will  be  better  under- 
stood if  the  kind  reader  will  turn  back  to  the  chapter  headed, 
"  I  chase  and  come  up  with  a  Federal  officer."  In  my  conversa- 
tion with  Will  on  that  occasion,  he  said :  "  What's  become  of 
Jenny  Clayton  ?  At  the  North  still?  Pshaw  !  Why  don't  she 
come  home?"  The  young  lady  before  us  was  Miss  Jenny  Clay- 
ton, a  remote  cousin  of  ours,  from  Virginia,  who  had  been 
Will's  sweetheart  when  they  were  children.  Her  father,  a  timid 
man,  of  lukewarm  feeling  toward  the  Confederacy,  had  sent  her 
to  the  North  to  be  educated;  she  had  come  to  visit  a  school- 
mate, the  daughter  of  Mr.  Curtis,  our  host — and  so  we  all  met ! 

A  few  words  explained  every  thing,  and  the  old  gentleman 
laughed  heartily. 

"Come,  sit  down,  sit  down,  gentlemen!"  he  said  to  Pelham 
and  myself.  "  I  am  what  you  call  a  '  Union  man,'  but  I  am  not  a 
churl  on  that  account." 

And  he  hospitably  busied  himself  in  heaping  up  our  plates 
with  smoking  "  viands  " — seethe  novelists.  "Viands,"  on  the 
present  occasion,  meant  beef  hash,  hot  bread,  milk,  butter, 
coffee,  preserves,  and  that  succulent  edible  called  "  apple  butter." 

That  hash!  that  "apple  butter!" — that  gorgeous,  magical 
supper! — memory  still  returns  to  it,  and  dwells  upon  it  with  the 
fond  and  lingering  tenderness  of  a  lover  who  remembers  the 
bright  hours  of  his  happiness! 

At  last  we  rose,  casting  eloquent  glances,  illuminated  by 
smiles — each  at  each. 

Will  sat  down  by  Jenny  Clayton,  who  was  soon  running  on 
with  him  in  the  gayest  manner,  and  Pelham  had  drawn  to  his 
side  the  pretty  little  fairy  with  the  curls,  who — astounding 
event! — declared  herself  an  inveterate  rebel! 

"That  is  true,"  said  the  old  gentleman,  laughing.  "Carrie 
can't  bear  her  own  people,  and  runs  to  all  the  gray-coats." 


336  SURRY    OF    EAGLE'S-NEST. 

"  But  I  don't  like  your  flag,"  said  the  little  girl,  "it  looks  so 
bloody!" 

And  she  shook  her  head  sadly,  looking  with  her  great  blue 
eyes,  half  covered  with  golden  ringlets,  at  Pelhara.  That  gaze 
was  met  by  Pelham  with  a  long,  sad,  yearning  look,  which  I 
could  not  understand.  The  penetrating  eyes  had  grown  soft,  the 
laughter  of  the  lips  disappeared,  an  expression  of  longing  tender- 
ness relaxed  the  features  of  the  young  soldier — and,  without 
seeming  aware  of  what  he  was  doing,  he  drew  the  child  toward 
him. 

His  arm  encircled  the  slender  form,  his  lips  were  pressed  to 
jiers  in  a  long,  lingering  kiss ;  and  then,  as  he  turned  aside  his 
head,  I  saw  tears  in  his  eyes. 

"  You  are  the  very  image  of  a  little  sister  I  have,"  he  said,  in 
a  low  voice,  "far  away  in  Alabama." 

The  words  were  drowned  in  the  laughter  of  Will  and  Miss 
Jenny  Clayton,  who  seemed  to  have  become  better  friends  than 
ever. 

When  finally  we  rose,  and  bade  our  hospitable  entertainers 
good-night,  I  thought  that  Miss  Jenny  Clayton  had  quite  suc- 
ceeded in  effacing  tbe  image  of  Miss  Henrietta  Fitzhugh. 

I  have  remembered  this  evening  ever  since ;  but  nothing 
dwells  more  clearly  in  my  recollection  than  that  kiss  bestowed 
by  Pelham  on  the  child,  and  the  tender  words  he  murmured  as 
he  pressed  her  to  his  heart. 

That  night  Will  slept  by  my  side  at  General  Jackson's  head- 
quarters, or  rather  we  spent  the  night  together,  talking  of  old 
days,  and  friends  at  home.  Why  should  I  record  that  conver- 
sation of  two  brothers  ?  It  would  scarcely  interest  the  reader. 
The  chill  winds  of  the  September  night,  fanning  the  embers  of 
the  camp-fire,  bore  away  the  words. 

On  the  next  day,  as  I  have  said,  we  remained  in  line  of  battle 
facing  the  enemy,  defying  General  McClellan  to  renew  the  attack. 
On  the  day  after,  General  Lee  was  on  the  south  bank  of  the 
Potomac — leaving  only,  growled  the  New  York  Tribune,  "the 
debris  of  his  late  camps,  two  disabled  pieces  of  artillery,  a  few 
hundred  of  his  stragglers,  perhaps  two  thousand  of  his  wounded, 


FALLING    BACK    WITH    STUART.       337 

and  ns  many  more  of  his  nnburied  dead — not  a  sound  field-piece, 
caisson,  ambulance,  or  wagon.  He  takes  with  him  the  supplies 
gathered  in  Maryland,  and  the  rich  spoils  of  Harper's  Ferry." 

Will  was  back  to  his  command.  To  spare  him  the  tedium  of 
a  prison,  I  had  succeeded  in  having  his  name  added  to  the  list 
of  Federal  prisoners  captured  at  Harper's  Ferry,  and  released 
upon  parole  not  to  serve  until  exchanged.  With  a  close  pressure 
of  the  hand  we  had  parted. 

Such  had  been,  from  first  to  last,  my  experiences  of  the 
"  Maryland  Campaign." 


XCIY. 

FALLING   BACK   WITH   STUART. 

We  spent  the  beautiful  month  of  October  in  the  Valley. 

What  is  it  makes  these  sad  memorial  days  so  charming? 
What  influence  descends  upon  the  heart  and  brings  back  all  the 
years  that  are  dead — their  smiles  and  laughter,  all  their  happy 
faces,  the  mirth  and  revelry,  and  joy  ?  Not  the  fairest  May  that 
ever  shone,  with  budding  leaves  and  flowers  and  grasses,  moves 
me  like  those  slowly  gliding  hours,  which  take  the  golden 
splendor  of  the  woods,  the  azure  of  the  sky,  the  glitter  of  the 
sunshine  for  their  drapery,  and,  filling  heart  and  memory  with 
the  dear  dead  faces,  it  may  be,  of  friends  long  gone  into  the  dust, 
serenely  lead  us  to  the  "  days  that  are  no  more." 

Is  this  life  of  dreams  among  the  fading  glories  of  the  rich 
October  woods  "  unprofitable  ?"  Profit ! — forever  profit  1  What 
is  real  in  this  world  except  your  reveries  and  dreams,  O  friendly 
reader?  What  secret  of  happiness  is  greater  than  to  follow 
your  illusions?  Life  is  so  short  and  dull  that  there  is  little  in  it 
worth  our  notice,  save  its  illusions ! — so  cold  and  sad  that  I,  for 
my  part,  wonder  we  are  not  all  dreamers ! 

But  the  narrative  of  Surry  halts  by  the  way.  Marchons  !  To 
horse  and  away,  whatever  reveries  beckon  I — whatever  dreams 
enchain  us ! 

Still,  as  we  pass,  let  us  cast  a  lingering  glance,  O  kindly  reader, 
15 


338  SURRY    OF    EAGLE'S-NEST. 

on  the  gorgeous  tints  of  autumn  all  along  the  wooded  shores  of 
the  Opequon  and  the  Shenandoah,  gliding,  with  a  musical  mur- 
mur, to  the  bosom  of  the  Potomac ;  on  the  old  hall  yonder,  with 
its  gay  back -ground  of  many-colored  foliage ;  and  upon  the 
smiling  fields,  over  which  the  "Yankee  cavalry"  will  soon  be 
sweeping. 

A  parting  glance  at  the  fair  panorama — a  pressure  of  the  hand 
exchanged  with  all  the  kind  good  friends  who  have  made  the 
days  so  pleasant — and  then  "  to  horse !"  For  General  McClellan 
is  moving ;  his  great  adversary  is  hastening  to  intercept  him 
on  the  Rappahannock ;  the  days  of  idleness  and  "  sweet  do- 
nothing"  yield  to  day  and  night  marches,  and  the  shock  of 
battle. 

At  the  end  of  October,  Jackson  followed  Longstreet,  and  ap- 
proached the  little  village  of  Millwood.  Stuart  had  already 
crossed  the  Blue  Ridge,  to  guard  the  gaps,  as  the  army  moved — 
and  I  accompanied  him,  by  Jackson's  permission,  to  capture,  if 
possible,  a  better  horse  than  that  of  my  Dutch  prisoner. 

From  that  moment  it  was  fighting,  fighting,  fighting!  "We 
charged  a  heavy  picket  at  Mountsville,  and  dispersed  or  captured 
the  whole  party  of  about  seventy-five.  Then  the  column  pushed 
on  to  Aldie. 

As  we  mounted  the  hill — bang !  bang !  And,  driving  on,  the 
head  of  the  column,  Fitz  Lee's  brigade,  ran  into  Buford's  cavalry, 
about  five  thousand  in  number. 

This  was  a  species  of  hornet's  nest,  which  buzzed  in  a  manner 
more  exciting  than  agreeable.  Stuart  fell  back  with  his  small 
force  to  the  hill  above,  and,  receiving  intelligence  that  another 
column  was  closing  in  on  his  rear,  opened  with  his  horse  artillery 
upon  the  enemy,  and  quietly  withdrew,  by  a  friendly  cross-roadj 
to  the  town  of  Middleburg. 

At  Mountsville,  the  officer  commanding  the  picket,  from  the 
First  Rhode  Island,  was  wounded,  and  his  watch  taken  in  charge 
by  a  staff-officer.  Months  afterward  it  was  returned  to  him  by 
the  hands  of  Captain  Stone,  a  Federal  prisoner.* 


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FALLING    BACK    "WITH    STUART.       339 

So  we  marched  into  Hiddleburg,  where  a  bevy  of  fair  girls 
came  forth  to  meet  the  gallant  Stuart,  in  a  state  of  crazy  joy  at 
seeing  the  gray-coats,  and  the  black  feather  of  their  favorite 
chieftain.  Did  the  bold  lips  press  some  rosy  cheeks  without 
having  them  withdrawn  ?  If  so,  will  anybody  blame  the 
maidens?     Not  I. 

Thereafter,  still  fighting,  fighting,  fighting!  At  Mountsville, 
at  Union,  at  Bloomfield,  at  Upperville — everywhere  fighting. 
Here  Colonel  Wickham,  that  gallant  cavalier,  ever  leading  his 
men  in  the  charge,  was  wounded;  and,  more  than  once,  the 
guns  of  Pelham  were  in  imminent  danger  of  capture. 

I  admired  now,  more  than  ever,  the  splendid  genius  for  artil- 
lery which  this  mere  boy  possessed.  There  is  a  genius  for  every 
things — Pelham's  was  to  fight  artillery.  He  was  born  for  that, 
and  found  his  proper  sphere  in  command  of  Stuart's  guns. 
With  what  unyielding  obstinacy  he  fought !  with  a  nerve  and 
courage  how  gay  and  splendid !  No  part  of  the  ground  escaped 
his  eagle  eye — no  ruse  could  deceive  him.  He  fought  with  the 
ardor  of  a  boy  and  the  stubborn  obstinacy  of  gray  hairs.  Rush- 
ing his  guns  into  position  upon  every  hill,  there  he  staid  until 
the  enemy  were  almost  at  the  muzzles  and  were  closing  in  upon 
his  flanks.  Then,  hastily  limbering  up  and  retiring,  under  a 
storm  of  bullets,  he  took  position  on  the  next  elevation,  and 
poured  his  canister  into  the  advancing  columns  as  before. 

Stuart  slowly  retired  before  the  enemy,  fighting  at  every  step, 
until  he  reached  the  high  ground  below  Paris.  Here  Pelham 
posted  his  artillery  on  the  slope  of  the  mountain,  at  sunset,  and 
before  these  frowning  war-dogs  the  enemy  halted. 

Meanwhile  the  whole  command,  except  a  trifling  rear-guard, 
had  moved  toward  Piedmont,  to  guard  the  trains  then  falling 
back. 

You  see,  my  dear  reader,  I  am  not  writing  a  series  of  "  ro- 
mantic incidents,"  for  I  have  introduced  a  wagon-train,  the  an- 
tipodes of  romance.  But  this  mention  of  the  cavalry -train  re- 
calls one  of  those  "  trifles  "  which,  I  have  warned  you,  I  remem- 
ber more  vividly  than  all  else. 

Stuart  and  his  staff  retired  at  nightfall  to  the  little  village  of 


340  SURRY    OF   E AGLE'S-NEST. 

Paris,  where,  after  partaking  of  an  excellent  supper,  we  all 
came  to  a  halt  before  the  old  wooden  tavern,  facing  the  main 
street,  at  the  eastern  terminus  thereof.  The  house  was  bare 
and  deserted,  but  a  fire  was  speedily  kindled  in  the  fireplace, 
and  pipes  were  produced  by  the  staff. 

The  General  was  stretched  upon  a  bench,  and  seemed  in  the 
depths  of  despair. 

"  What  is  the  matter  f"  I  asked. 

"  Well,  a  blunder  has  occurred  in  the  movement  of  my  column 
toward  Piedmont,  and  my  trains  are  in  great  danger." 

"That's  enough  to  make  any  one  blue,  I  confess,  General." 

"  As  indigo,"  was  the  reply,  in  the  tone  of  a  man  who  has 
lost  his  last  friend.  And  the  General  sank  back,  knitting  his 
brows. 

As  he  did  so,  something  was  said  which  produced  a  laugh — 
and,  to  my  great  surprise,  Stuart  joined  in  it  heartily. 

"  You  are  very  gay  for  a  man  who  has  the  blues,"  I  said. 

"Well,  the  fact  is,  Major,"  was  his  gay  reply,  "I  am  so  blue 
to-night,  that  I  have  to  laugh  to  keep  up  my  spirits,  you  see  !"* 

And,  throwing  himself  back,  the  General  laughed  again, 
yawned,  and  immediately  fell  asleep.  My  own  eyelids  were  just 
drooping,  when  a  cavalry-man  rode  up  and  waked  the  party. 

"  Well,  what  news  ?"  asked  Stuart,  yawning. 

"Major  Wooldridge  says  the  enemy  are  advancing,  General, 
and  that  you  had  better  get  away  from  here." 

The  General  indulged  in  another  yawn,  stretched  his  limbs, 
and  buckled  on  his  sabre.t 

"  I  believe  I  will  go  and  see  old  Stonewall,"  he  said. 

The  staff  were  soon  ready ;  and  mounting  our  horses,  we 
turned  their  heads  toward  Ashby's  Gap. 

We  had  scarcely  emerged  from  the  little  village,  and  began  the 
ascent  of  the  mountain  road  which  leads  through  the  Gap,  when 


*  His  words. 

t  In  conversation  with  me,  Colonel  Surry  said,  with  a  laugh,  that  he  knew  this  and 
many  other  scenes  of  his  memoirs  would  appear  too  trifling  and  unimportant  for 
record.  "  But  I  am  tired  of  the  noise  of  great  battles,"  ho  added,  "  and  amuse  my- 
self by  travelling  along  the  by-ways  of  my  subject,  and  picking  up  the  'uncon- 
sidered trifles.'1 " 


■  4 


A    MORAL    REFLECTION.  341 

rapid  firing  came  from  the  rear,  and  then  the  clatter  of  hoofs 
was  heard  upon  the  street  of  the  village. 

"They  are  crowding  "Wooldridge,"  said  the  General,  "hut  he 
is  one  of  my  hest  officers,  and  will  take  care  of  himself.  Come 
on,  Major,  we  are  losing  time." 

And  we  pushed  our  horses  into  a  rapid  trot,  which  soon 
brought  us  to  the  river.  Fording  at  the  spot  which  I  so  well 
remembered  on  my  hard  ride  from  Manassas  to  Winchester  in 
July,  1861,  we  went  on  to  Millwood,  and  found  General  Jackson 
in  his  tent,  under  the  trees  of  a  forest  near,  reading  his  Bible, 
from  which  he  looked  up  with  a  smile  of  pleasure  as  Stuart  en- 
tered.* 

Before  daylight  Stuart  was  again  in  the  saddle  and  travelling 
rapidly  toward  Front  Royal,  to  cross  at  the  first  gap  he  found 
unoccupied  by  the  enemy,  and  take  command  of  his  column.  I 
was  with  him. 


XCY. 

WHICH  CONTAINS  A  VALUABLE  MORAL  REFLECTION. 

The  last  words  of  the  last  chapter  are  easily  explained. 

I  was  a  short  day's  ride  from  May  Beverley,  and  I  could  no 
longer  utter  those  rebellious  words,  "I  will  not  look  again  upon 
her  face!" 

Alas  for  human  resolution !  However  hard  the  iron,  there  is 
a  fire  that  will  melt  it! — however  obstinate  a  man's  will,  it  yields 
to  the  smile  of  a  girl !  I  had  sworn  not  to  go  near  May  Beverley, 
and  I  was  hastening  to  see  her  once  more,  as  fast  as  my  horse 
would  carry  me ! 

Moral : — Never  trouble  yourself  by  making  good  resolutions 
when  the  eyes  of  a  woman  are  mixed  up  with  them  ! 

I  had  easily  procured  twenty-four  hours'  leave  of  absence  from 
General  Jackson,  who  evidently  was  in  no  haste  to  leave  Mill- 

*  General  Stuart  sj>oke  of  tbis  incident  moro  than  once. 


342  SURRY    OF    EAGLE'S-NEST. 

wood ;  and  Betting  out  with  Stuart,  who  had  been  joined  by 
Hampton's  Brigade,  passed  through  White  Post  and  Smoketown, 
and  entered  Manassas  Gap. 

Beyond  this  gorge  in  the  Blue  Ridge  was  The  Oaks,  a  little 
off  the  track  of  the  advancing  enemy. 

"Who  are  you  going  to  see,  Surry?"  said  Stuart,  as,  having 
vidden  ahead  of  the  cavalry,  we  wound  along  the  mountain  road 
toward  Linden. 

"  Going  to  see,  my  dear  General  ?"  I  echoed.  "  Why,  the  manner 
in  which  your  cavalry  is  handled." 

Stuart  laughed. 

"'Sweet  Evelina!  dear  Evelina!' "he  sang;  "is  her  name 
Evelina,  Surry,  and  where  does  she  live  ?" 

"  Pshaw,  General !  Your  suspicion  is  enormous !  But  I  now 
remember  there  is  a  friend  of  mine  in   his  region." 

"  Aha !  I  thought  so !  I  wish  I  could  go  with  you." 

"  She  would  be  delighted  to  see  you.  You  know  all  the  girls 
are  crazy  to  '  follow  your  feather.'  "  , 

"  You  make  me  gloomy — to  think  what  I  miss.     Well, 

"  If  you  get  there  before  I  do, 
Oh  I  tell  her  I'm  a-coming  too  1" 

And,  as  we  came  to  a  point  where  we  had  to  separate,  Stuart 
cried : 

"  Success  to  you,  Surry,  and  long  may  you  wave!" 

With  these  words  the  gay  cavalier  put  spur  to  his  horse,  and 
galloped  on  to  catch  up  with  Rosser. 

I  rode  on  rapidly  toward  The  Oaks,  which  soon  rose  before 
me,  on  its  wooded  hill. 

From  beyond  came  the  clear  crack  of  carbines,  and  from  time 
to  time  the  thunder  of  Pelham's  guns,  as  he  fell  back  slowly  be- 
fore the  advancing  enemy. 


A    DREAM    OF    AUTUMN.  343 

XCYI. 

A     DREAM    OF    AUTUMN. 

Again  at  The  Oaks!  How  many  stirring  scenes  had  I  wit- 
nessed, what  vivid  emotions  had  been  mine,  since  first  I  ascended 
the  steps  of  this  old  portico  in  April,  1861 1 

Then  I  was  a  gay  and  ardent  youth,  on  fire  with  the  coming 
conflict,  and  revelling  in  dreams  of  glory  and  romance.  Now  I 
was  a  weary,  dusty  soldier,  with  clanking  sabre,  dingy  uniform, 
and  a  settled  conviction  that  the  thing  called  war  was  a  hard 
and  disagreeable  affair — not  at  all  a  splendid  series  of  adventures. 

I  had  seen  much,  felt  more,  reflected  most  of  all — and  here  I 
was  within  ten  feet  of  her  smile,  the  sheen  of  her  hair,  the 
haunting  splendor  of  her  eyes !  Oh,  glory,  fame,  the  long  result 
of  war! — what  are  all  these  when  a  girl  looks  at  you,  laughing 
with  her  eyes,  and,  blushing,  murmurs  : 

"You  have  come  at  last!" 

An  hour  after  my  arrival  at  The  Oaks,  I  had  answered  all 
Colonel  Beverley's  questions — agreed  with  him  upon  every  sub- 
ject— and  was  walking  with  May  Beverley  across  the  hills.  Very 
soon  we  lost  our  way. 

There  are  moments  when,  in  losing  our  way,  we  find  all  that 
is  worth  having  in  this  world  of  disappointments,  sorrows,  and 
regrets ! 

The  afternoon  was  dreamy  and  memorial.  The  affluent  glories 
of  the  splendid  autumn  burned  away ;  and  on  every  side  the 
forests  blazed  with  crimson,  blue,  and  gold — slowly  fading  now 
into  the  russet  brown  of  winter.  The  mountain  slopes  were 
magical  in  their  vivid  coloring;  and  you  would  have  said  the 
banners  of  all  nations  flaunted  in  the  dreamy  atmosphere.  The 
sky  was  like  the  blue  eyes  of  a  girl,  when,  opening  from  bud  to 
blossom,  she  expands  into  the  perfect  flower  of  womanhood  ;  the 
limpid  waters  of  the  streamlets  near  lapsed  away  as  sweetly  as  the 
"murmur  of  a  dream;"  and  over  all  the  scene  of  shining  stream, 
and  deep  blue  sky,  and  azure  mountain,   drooped  the  mellow 


344  SURRY    OF    EAGLE'S-NEST. 

haze  of  the  mild  Indian  summer,  rounding  every  outline,  soften- 
ing every  tint,  and  making  of  this  lovely  region  a  hright  Arcady 
of  love  and  poesy  and  dreams ! 

Such  was  the  scene  amid  which  I  wandered  with  the  woman 
I  had  loved  so  long;  and,  like  some  magical  influence,  it  melted 
deep  into  the  hearts  of  those  who  gazed  upon  it.  All  the  silver 
spangles  of  the  ocean  rippling  in  the  wind,  all  the  glitter  of  the 
stars,  the  murmur  of  the  waves,  the  perfume  of  the  breezes,  and 
the  dreamy  splendor  of  the  sky  seemed  here  to  mingle  into  one 
supreme  and  perfect  whole  of  love  and  joy  and  beauty ! 

Only,  yonder,  not  a  mile  away,  is  heard  the  thunder  of  the 
guns  as  Pelham  drives  the  enemy  hack ;  and  ever  it  draws 
nearer — that  grim  sound  which  seems  to  desecrate  the  tranquil 
landscape. 

May  Beverley  does  not  seem  to  hear  it.  She  is  sitting  now 
upon  a  mossy  rock,  beneath  a  little  pine ;  and,  looking  down, 
with  cheeks  suffused  in  blushes,  plays  with  the  tassel  of  her  belt, 
or  with  an  autumn  flower,  which  she  has  plucked  beside  the 
rock.  The  other  hand— once  she  strove  to  withdraw  it,  but  the 
effort  had  been  soon  abandoned.  It  trembled  slightly,  but  rested 
in  the  clasp  which  encircled  it. 

The  pine-tree  listened  doubtless  to  the  murmurs,  mingling 
with  the  whisper  of  its  tassels  as  the  low  breeze  stirred  them  on 
that  mild  memorial  afternoon. 

Did  it  hear  a  woman  whisper,  as  her  head  sank  on  the  bosom 
of  a  man  who  held  her  in  his  arms,  clasped  to  his  heart — hear 
her  murmur  with  a  face  full  of  tears  and  blushes  : 

"  Yes !  from  the  moment  when  you  lay  before  me,  pale  and 
motionless,  in  the  wood,  that  day!" 

"And  never  forgot  me — never  lost  sight  of  the  poor  soldier, 
living  only  for  you?" 

"Never!  never!" 

0  pine-tree,  never  whisper  what  you  heard  or  saw !  There 
are  things  which  the  cold  world  laughs  at,  makes  it  cynical  jest 
of,  and  so  desecrates. 

Yet  who  shall  dare  to  laugh  at  the  spectacle  of  a  proud  and 
beautiful  girl,  long  fettered  by  a  hateful  contract,  shuddering  at 


Vv\    *«,-^ 


mr*ss 


The  Autumn  Woods. — p.  344. 


THE    AWAKING.  345 

a  loathsome  union  with  a  man  she  despises — who  shall  laugh 
when  she  gives  way  to  her  heart,  and,  falling  weak  and  over- 
come into  the  arms  of  one  who  has  loved  her  long  and  dearly, 
murmurs,  "  Take  charge  of  my  poor  life — direct  my  fate — I 
have  loved,  and  love  you  only  !" 

That  was  the  confession  which  came  in  a  murmur  from  the 
beautiful  lips  of  the  proud  May  Beverley,  and  she  made  it  amid 
the  thunder  of  the  guns,  her  face  hid  in  my  breast,  heart  beating 
against  heart. 


XCVII. 

THE     AWAKING. 

We  had  returned  to  The  Oaks :  the  young  girl  had  disappeared 
upstairs  :  I  was  having  a  "private  conversation"  with  Colonel 
Beverley. 

A  few  words  will  place  upon  record  all  that  is  necessary  to  a 
comprehension  of  Ihese  memoirs. 

My  host  listened  in  silence  and  with  evident  pain  to  my  avowal 
and  demand  of  his  daughter's  hand.  When  I  had  finished,  he 
shook  his  gray  head  sadly,  and  seemed  too  much  moved  to 
speak.  Then  he  leaned  over,  took  my  hand,  and  said  in  his 
bravo  and  loyal  voice: 

"  My  dear  young  friend — for  I  am  very  much  older  than  your- 
self, and  may  call  you  so — you  have  given  me  more  pain  in  the 
last  ten  minutes  than  words  can  express.  You  ask  of  me  what 
it  is  out  of  my  power  to  grant — my  daughter's  hand.  I  appre- 
ciate the  sincerity  of  your  feeling,  and  doubt  not  that  my  poor 
child  is  equally  in  earnest,  and  would  to  God  I  could  consent  to 
your  union !  To  have  for  my  son  the  son  of  my  oldest  and 
dearest  friend,  would  be  an  inexpressible  delight  to  me ;  it  is 
almost  beyond  my  power  to  deny  you,  but  I  must.  My  honor 
is  pledged.  I  am  bound  irrevocably  by  a  promise  to  the  dead — 
Frederick  Baskerville's  father  ;  and  I  must  add  that  my  child  is 
»lso  bound  by  her  promise  to  that  young  man.  She  must  adhere 
15* 


346  SUERY    OF    EAG-LE'S-NEST. 

to  her  pledge,  and  I  to  mine.  Our  hearts  may  break,  but  at 
least  the  honor  of  the  Beverleys  will  remain  untarnished!" 

The  old  man's  cheeks  flushed,  his  eyes  filled  with  tears. 

"  Would  to  God,"  he  exclaimed  gloomily,  "that  I  had  cut  out 
my  tongue,  severed  my  right  hand,  before  I  uttered  and  re- 
corded that  promise !  I  am  no  admirer  of  young  Baskerville  : 
had  I  known  what  his  character  would  become — but  this  is 
idle !  Do  not  think  hard  of  me,  Major  Surry !  this  marriage 
must  take  place ;  let  us  end  this  painful  interview,  it  is  almost 
more  than  I  can  bear  !" 

I  rose.  What  is  it  that  a  proud  man  does  when  his  heart  is 
breaking?  I  think  he  remains  calm  and  quiet,  resolved  not  to 
shrink  or  bend,  though  the  thunder  smite  him. 

I  went  to  my  chamber  to  get  my  arms.  On  the  staircase  I 
met  May  Beverley.     She  glanced  at  my  pale  face,  and  said  : 

"Papa  has  refused  you  ?" 

"Yes." 

The  color  mounted  to  her  beautiful  face,  and  her  head  rose 
erect  as  that  of  an  offended  duchess. 

"  I  will  never  marry  that  person !"  she  said  haughtily. 

Then  her  head  sank,  and  she  burst  into  tears. 

Captain  Baskerville  would  have  been  displeased  had  he  seen 
where  the  young  girl's  head  then  rested  ;  but  then,  Captain 
Baskerville's  views  or  opinions  were  not  important.  This  woman 
was  not  yet  his  property. 

Her  lips  were  pressed  to  my  own,  and  this  is  all  that  was 
said  in  ten  minutes  : 

"  I  love  you  !" 

"I  will  never  marry  him!  no,  never,  never t" 

"And  if  there  is  any  hope  for  me? — I  shall  be  far  away." 

"I  will  send  you  a  flower  like  this !" 

And  taking  from  her  bosom  an  autumn  primrose,  the  blushing 
girl  held  it  out  to  me,  remained  a  moment  sobbing  in  my  arms, 
and  then  disappeared. 

Ten  minutes  afterward  I  had  left  The  Oaks. 


PELHAM'S    HORSE    ARTILLERY.       347 
XCVIII. 

HOW  PELHAM  FOUGHT  HIS  HORSE  ARTILLERY 

I  ttjkned  my  back  upon  The  Oaks  with  a  heavy  heart,  and  the 
solitary  ride  I  was  about  to  take  back  over  that  ground,  traversed 
so  gayly  in  the  morning,  appeared  inexpressibly  dreary. 

I  had  reached  a  lofty  hill  at  some  distance  from  the  house, 
when  the  last  regiments  of  cavalry  appeared  falling  slowly  back, 
and  Pelham's  guns  were  seen  bringing  up  the  rear.  On  the 
long  column  of  pieces,  caissons,  and  mounted  cannoneers,  the 
red  light  of  the  setting  sun  was  streaming  splendidly,  and  in 
front  was  seen  the  slender  form  of  Pelham,  with  his  smooth, 
girlish  face,  and  his  brave,  gay  smile.  The  crimson  light  illu- 
minated his  figure,  and  fell  around  him  like  a  glory. 

I  would  have  avoided  him,  for  I  was  in  no  humor  then  to 
speak  with  anybody ;  but  his  first  words  as  he  recognized  me 
gave  me  something  like  a  thrill  of  satisfaction. 

"  How  are  you,  old  fellow?"  was  Pelham's  friendly  greeting. 
"  Where  did  you  come  from  ?  You  are  just  in  time.  We  are 
going  to  have  a  thundering  fight  here  before  night!" 

And  he  grasped  my  hand  with  that  cordial,  kindly  manner 
which  made  him  so  many  friends. 

"  Ah  !"  I  said,  "  are  they  pressing  you?" 

"Yes,  in  heavy  force." 

"  You  don't  seem  in  a  hurry." 

"  Well,"  was  his  reply  in  a  tranquil  tone,  "  I  don't  like  to  be  hur- 
ried, but  they'll  be  here  by  the  time  I  get  into  position  yonder." 

And  he  pointed  to  the  next  hill. 

"The  boys  are  in  splendid  spirits,"  he  added  gayly;  "listen!" 

In  fact,  the  horse  artillery  were  singing  at  the  top  of  their 
voices : 

"  Ain't  you — ain't  you — happy? 

Anchor  by-and-by ! 
Ain't  you— ain't  you — happy  ? 

Anchor  by-and-by! 
Stand  the  storm,  it  won't  be  long! 

Anchor  by-and-by  I" 


348  SURRY    OF    EAGLE'S-NEST. 

There  was  something  stirring  in  the  jovial  voices,  and  Pelham's 
face  lit  up  as  he  listened. 

"There  never  were  better  cannoneers!"  he  said;  "  they  will 
fight  the  Yankees  to  the  very  muzzles  of  the  guns!" 

As  he  spoke,  a  French  song  resounded — a  gay  and  lilting  air 
— and  he  began  to  laugh. 

"That's  my  'Napoleon  detachment,'"  said  Pelham;  "and 
Dominic  the  No.  I.  is  leading." 

All  at  once,  above  the  voices,  was  heard  rapid  firing  from  the 
small  rear-guard,  and  a  cavalry-man  came  on  at  full  gallop,  with 
the  intelligence  that  the  enemy  were  pressing  forward  rapidly 
to  charge  the  guns. 

Pelham  l-ode  quietly  to  a  point  near,  from  which  he  could  get 
a  better  view ;  then  he  suddenly  came  back  like  lightning,  and 
ordered : 

"Forward!  gallop!" 

The  column  of  pieces  moved  at  the  word,  broke  into  a  gallop, 
and,  thundering  across  a  flat,  mounted  the  opposite  hill. 

Pelham  was  beside  them,  and  they  were  instantly  placed  in 
battery,  and  opened  fire. 

It  was  not  a  moment  too  soon.  A  heavy  force  of  Federal 
cavalry  had  charged  the  rear-guard,  broken  through  it,  and 
were  now  seen  advancing  at  a  headlong  gallop  to  charge  the 
pieces. 

All  at  once,  the  bronze  war-dogs  of  Pelham  opened  their 
grim  mouths,  and  a  storm  of  solid  shot  tore  through  the  Federal 
ranks,  overthrowing  men  and  horses;  and  this  was  succeeded,  as 
they  still  pressed  on,  by  a  deadly  fire  of  canister. 

At  the  same  moment,  Gordon,  that  brave  and  noble  North 
Carolinian,  one  of  my  best  friends,  charged  them  at  the  head  of 
the  "  Old  First,"  and,  had  it  not  been  for  a  stone  wall  and 
ditch,  would  have  swept  them  back  at  every  point.  As  it  was, 
his  horses  floundered  iu  the  deep  ditch,  the  sharpshooters  behind 
the  wall  poured  in  a  destructive  fire,  and  Gordon  was  forced  to 
fall  back  to  the  hill.* 

*  gee  his  report. 


PELHAM'S    HORSE    ARTILLERY.       349 

The  fine  face  of  the  North  Carolinian  was  flashed  with  rage ; 
his  eyes  glared ;  he  could  ill  brook  such  a  repulse. 

Pelham  met  him  with  a  calm  smile  : 

"Don't  annoy  yourself,  Colonel,1' he  said,  "they  won't  ride 
over  me." 

And,  turning  to  an  officer,  he  said  coolly  : 

"Double-shot  all  the  guns  with  canister." 

As  he  spoke,  the  enemy,  who  had  rapidly  re-formed  their 
line,  charged  straight  upon  the  pieces. 

Pelham  sat  his  horse,  looking  coolly  at  the  dark  column  as  it 
swept  upon  him.  He  did  not  move  a  muscle,  but  his  teeth  were 
clinched  beneath  the  thin  lips,  and  the  blue  eyes  blazed.  The 
enemy  were  suffered  to  advance  within  less  than  a  hundred 
yards  of  the  guns,  when  Pelham  rose  in  his  stirrups,  and  in  his 
ringing  voice  shouted : 

"Fire!" 

The  ground  shook  ;  a  huge  cloud  for  an  instant  obscured  the 
scene  ;  then,  as  it  drifted,  the  Federal  ranks  were  seen  to  break 
in  disorder  and  retreat,  leaving  the  ground  strewed  with  their 
dead. 

"  All  right!"  said  Pelham,  coolly.     "  Reload  with  canister. 

The  cannoneers  sprang  to  the  pieces,  and  they  were  soon 
ready  again.  But  the  enemy  did  not  seem  willing  to  renew  the 
charge.  They  dismounted  a  heavy  line  of  sharpshooters,  ad- 
vanced, and  taking  advantage  of  every  species  of  cover,  were 
evidently  preparing  to  close  in  upon  the  guns. 

The  bullets  now  began  to  fly  thick  and  fast.  Pelham  sat  his 
horse  motionless,  and  gazing  at  the  advancing  line. 

"They  will  make  a  rush  directly,  Surry,"  he  said  coolly,  "and 
I'll  show  you  how  my  boys  will  mow  them  down." 

"  They  do  seem  determined  to  come  to  close  quarters." 

"  Why  don't  they  do  it,  then  ?  They  are  after  something  I 
don't  understand.     What  is  it?" 

The  reply  came  from  our  rear.  Suddenly  a  loud  cheer  was 
heard  directly  in  rear  of  the  guns ;  and  a  regiment,  which  the 
enemy  had  sent  round  through  a  clump  of  woods,  charged  the 
pieces  at  full  gallop. 


350  SURRY    OF    EAGLE'S-NEST. 

"Action  rear  !"  Pelharn  shouted,  darting  to  his  guns ;  and  two 
pieces  were  whirled  about,  and  opened  upon  the  charging  column. 
The  fire  raked  the  enemy  with  deadly  effect ;  and  they  wavered 
for  an  instant.  Then  they  re-formed,  and  came  on  again  head- 
long. At  the  same  moment  the  line  of  sharpshooters  in  front 
charged  at  a  run,  right  up  to  the  muzzles  of  the  guns. 

"We  were  surrounded  ;  and  from  that  moment  the  fight  became 
desperate.  Pelham  was  everywhere,  cheering  on  the  men,  with 
his  drawn  sabre  flashing  in  the  last  rays  of  sunlight— and  as  that 
blood-red  light  streamed  on  his  slender  figure,  and  countenance 
all  ablaze  with  the  fire  of  battle,  his  appearance  was  grand. 

The  boy-artillerist  was  in  his  proper  sphere — fighting  his  guns 
to  the  very  muzzle,  determined  to  die  where  he  stood,  or  drive 
the  enemy  back. 

More  than  one  of  the  dismounted  Federal  cavalry  charged  up 
to  the  mouths  of  the  pieces  and  were  hurled  back,  torn  to  pieces 
with  shell  or  canister  ;  and,  as  each  deadly  discharge  swept  their 
enemies  back,  the  cannoneers  uttered  triumphant  shouts,  in 
which  might  be  discerned  the  fierce  joy  of  fighting  which  these 
veritable  war-dogs  experienced. 

Suddenly  above  the  thunder  of  the  guns  resounded  the  loud, 
imperial  Marseillaise,  sung  with  a  species  of  ferocious  roar  by 
the  men  of  the  "Napoleon  detachment,"  as  they  worked  the 
guns,  driving  back  the  charge  upon  the  rear.*  There  was  some- 
thing in  the  voices  of  these  men  inexpressibly  defiant  and  deter- 
mined— the  martial  chorus  rang  out  splendid  and  triumphant ;  it 
seemed  to  say,  "  Come !  we  will  die  here,  where  we  stand  !" 

Above  them,  on  his  horse,  towered  the  form  of  Pelham,  and 
his  voice  made  the  men  grow  wild. 

Never  have  I  seen  such  a  fight.  It  was  an  episode  from  the 
wars  of  the  Titans — the  conflict  of  the  giants  and  the  thunder- 
bolts. 

The  force  in  front  was  swept  back,  decimated,  and  completely 
routed.  As  they  gave  way,  Gordon  charged  and  drove  them 
with  the  sabre.  At  the  same  moment  the  force  in  rear  was  seen 
to  recoil. 

*  Historical. 


PELHAM'S    HORSE    ARTILLERY.       351 

Then  was  presented  a  spectacle  which  made  the  heart  leap, 
and  brought  a  fierce  cheer  from  the  men. 

Right  down  on  the  enemy's  flank  hurst  a  column  of  Southern 
cavalry,  and  then  followed  the  quick  work  of  the  sabre.  A 
desperate  combat  followed — but  it  did  not  last  ten  minutes. 
The  enemy  gave  way — the  Southern  horsemen  pressed  them,  cut- 
ting right  and  left;  and  as  the  scattered  Federal  cavalry  darted 
over  the  hill,  I  saw  in  front  of  their  pursuers  the  tall  form  of 
Mordaunt. 

At  every  sweep  of  his  heavy  sabre  a  man  was  cut  out  of  the 
saddle;  and  not  until  he  had  struck  their  main  body  did  he 
sheathe  his  weapon  and  slowly  retire,  with  a  firm  and  defiant 
front,  which  the  enemy  made  no  attempt  to  charge. 

"  Well,  P  elham,"  he  said,  as  he  rode  up,  "you  have  had 
pretty  hot  work,  but  I  think  they  have  got  enough  for  the 
present." 

And  he  grasped  the  hand  of  Pelham,  whose  face  blushed 
proudly. 

"When  I  took  the  hand  of  Mordaunt  in  my  turn,  something 
wet  and  clammy  attracted  my  attention. 

"  It  is  only  blood,"  he  said,  laughing  grimly ;  "  there  is  a  good 
deal  on  my  hands." 

The  fighting  was  now  evidently  over  for  the  day.  Night  had 
come,  and  the  enemy  would  not  attempt  to  renew  the  attack 
before  morning. 

I  woke  to  the  consciousness,  as  the  artillery  limbered  up  and 
prepared  to  move  on,  that  I  was  mounted  on  a  weary  horse, 
with  night  and  a  journey  of  about  thirty  miles  before  me.  I 
was  thinking  of  the  dreary  ride,  when,  all  at  once,  the  voice  of 
Mordaunt  said : 

"  Come  and  sup  with  me,  Surry — we  are  not  far  from  my 
house,  and  I  must  go  there  for  an  hour  or  two,  to  get  some 
papers." 

To  this  I  agreed,  especially  as  the  place  was  on  my  route. 
Pelham  bade  me  farewell  with  a  laugh. 

"Tell  General  Jackson  that  we  are  all  right,  Surry  1"  he  said; 
"and  come  and  see  me  soon." 


352  SURRY    OF    EAGLE'S-NEST. 

"With  a  pressure  of  the  hand  I  parted  with  the  brave  hoy,  and 
he  rode  on. 

As  the  horse  artillery  took  up  the  line  of  march,  I  heard  the 

cannoneers  again  strike  up  the  lilting  chorus: 

"Stand  the  storm,  it  won't  be  long  1 
Anchor  by-and-by  1" 


XCIX. 

I  DELIVER  UP  HARRY  SALTOUN'S  WATCH,  AND  MAKE  A 

DISCOVERY. 

Mokdattnt  had  gone  to  give  an  order  to  his  second  in  com- 
mand, relating  to  the  movements  of  the  cavalry  during  his  brief 
absence,  when  I  was  hailed  by  a  laughing  voice  near  me,  and 
young  Harry  Saltoun  rode  up,  with  one  arm  ia  a  sling,  and  held 
out  his  hand. 

He  looked  thin  and  pale,  but  his  eye  was  as  laughing,  his  smiie 
as  gay,  and  his  bearing  as  gallant  as  ever. 

"  How  are  you,  Major?"  was  his  easy  greeting.  "Delighted  to 
Bee  you  again !  Just  to  think  of  my  missing  the  whole  Mary- 
land campaign!" 

"  Your  wound  kept  you  away?" 

"Yes — at  that  glorious  Elm  Cottage!  Did  you  ever  know 
kinder  people?" 

"  They  are  charming." 

"  I  believe  you." 

"  Did  you  like  your  young  nurse  ?  I  believe  she  took  especial 
charge  of  you?" 

Harry  Saltoun's  face  colored  suddenly — it  was  a  veritable 
blush  which  came  to  his  cheeks. 

"Oh,  yes,"  he  stammered,  "we  became  very  good  friends. 
But  tell  me  about  Maryland.  How  sorry  I  am  I  did  not  go  with 
the  cavalry  boys!  They  passed  right  by  my  father's — near 
Frederick  City." 

What  did   that  sudden   blush   moan?     Had    Harry    Saltoun 


HARRY    SALTOUN'S    WATCH.  353 

fallen  in  love  with  Violet  Grafton,  to  whom  he  had  carried  Mor- 
daunt's  note,  soliciting  her  good  offices  for  the  youth,  when  he 
was  wounded  ? 

•'You  ought  to  have  found  out  our  house,"  he  continued, 
laughing,  "  and  made  the  old  gentleman  supply  you  with  rations. 
They  beat  the  Confederate  article,  I  tell  you  !" 

"  I  can  testify  as  much  from  personal  experience,"  was  my  re- 
ply, and,  informing  the  young  officer  of  my  visit  to  his  father, 
I  drew  from  my  breast  and  gave  him  his  watch. 

At  sight  of  it  he  exhibited  the  most  unmistakable  pleasure. 

"Thank  you,  Major!"  he  exclaimed;  "you  have  done  me  a 
real  favor!  When  I  left  Maryland  I  left  this  behind,  and,  as  I 
have  always  worn  it,  I  felt  as  if  not  having  it  would  bring  me 
bad  luck." 

"  Take  care,  or  some  Yankee  will  get  it." 

"  Never — I  will  die  first.  I  never  have  been  captured  yet — for, 
you  see,  I  take  care  of  myself!" 

"  That  is  no  doubt  the  reason  you  left  Elm  Cottage  ?" 

"  Precisely !  No  sooner  did  I  hear  that  McClellan  was  ad 
vancing  than  I  fell  back  in  good  order,  and  here  I  am  !" 

The  boy's  laughter  was  like  a  cordial,  and  almost  made  the 
gloomy  Major  Surry  smile. 

"And  you  left  all  well? — your  fair  nurse  and  everybody?" 

"Perfectly." 

And  again,  at  the  utterance  of  that  word  "  nurse,"  Harry  Sal- 
toun  blushed  unmistakably.     The  thing  was  perfectly  plain. 

"Well,  Major,"  he  said,  "good-by,  now!  Thank  you  again 
for  bringing  my  watch.  There  is  Colonel  Mordaunt  calling  to 
you.  Did  yon  ever  see  or  read  of  a  more  splendid  fellow  in  a 
charge?  His  men  adore  him— and  I  would  rather  have  him  say 
to  me,  'Well  done!'  than  get  another  grade  from  the  War 
Department." 

With  these  words  the  gay  youth  saluted  with  the  easy  grace 
which  characterized  him;  and,  joining  Mordaunt,  I  rode  with 
him  toward  the  mountains. 


354  SURRY    OF   EAGLE'S-NEST. 

c. 

ACHMED 

A  short  ride  brought  us  to  Mordaunt's  house,  buried  in  the 
depths  of  the  woods,  and,  dismounting,  we  entered  the  same 
apartment,  decorated  with  book-shelves,  pictures,  and  tiger-skins, 
in  which  I  had  held  my  first  interview  with  the  singular  man, 
who  from  a  stranger  had  become  a  friend. 

On  the  table  lay  the  identical  copy  of  Hugo's  "  Les  Miserables  " 
which  I  had  noticed  before.  The  same  agate  eyes  glared  at  me 
from  the  tiger  and  leopard  skins — the  same  Arab  horsemen 
hurled  their  javelins  or  wielded  their  ataghans  in  the  pictures. 

On  the  threshold  appeared  Achmed  the  Moor,  in  his  pictur- 
esque costume,  bowing  low  at  sight  of  me,  and  a  few  words  in 
Arabic  evidently  announced  supper. 

It  was  spread  in  an  apartment  decorated  with  old  mahogany 
furniture  and  long  rows  of  family  portraits,  doubtless  those  of 
Mordaunt's  ancestors.  The  dames  and  caveliers,  in  yellow  lace, 
and  doublets  loaded  with  embroidery,  looked  down  sedately  up- 
on their  swarthy  descendant  in  his  gray  uniform,  with  its  braided 
sleeves — on  his  brown  hat,  black  plume,  and  heavy  sabre. 

The  supper  was  excellent,  and  was  placed  upon  a  service  plain 
but  rich.  Mordaunt  scarcely  ate  any  thing,  contenting  himself 
with  a  light  meal  and  some  bitterly  strong  coffee,  after  which 
he  lit  his  short,  black  meerschaum,  and  led  the  way  back  to  his 
library.  I  had  eaten  nothing.  The  depressing  events  of  the 
day  had  told  upon  me. 

As  I  now,  however,  fixed  my  eyes  upon  Mordaunt,  whose 
Martial  figure  was  stretched  in  a  leathern  chair  opposite  me,  the 
reflection  came,  "  What  is  your  disappointment,  compared  to  the 
misery  which  this  man  has  suffered  ?  what  right  have  you  to  com- 
plain of  a  mere  '  cross  in  love,'  when  you  see  before  one  who,  in 
spite  of  suffering  which  would  break  the  hearts  of  most  men,  re- 
tains his  calmness  and  endures  his  agony  without  complaint?" 
The  immense  trial  which  Mordaunt  had  thus  met  and  overcome 


ACHMED.  355 

by  his  iron  resolution  came  to  my  memory,  and  the  sight  of  his 
stern,  brave  face  was  like  a  tonic,  giving  me  strength  again  after 
a  moment  of  prostration. 

Of  that  dark  passage  in  his  life  I  had  never  spoken  to  him  ; 
nor  did  he  know  that  I  had  plucked  out  the  heart  of  his  mystery. 
I  shrank  from  letting  this  proud  spirit  suspect  my  knowledge  of 
his  history,  and  had  never  breathed  a  syllable  to  hirn  of  my  ad- 
venture with  Fenwick. 

"You  no  doubt  remember  this  apartment,"  said  Mordannt.  "  I 
have  not  been  here  for  more  than  a  year,  but  it  remains  as  I  left 
it.  See,  lingo's  '  Les  Miserables,'  which  I  remember  we  dis- 
cussed, is  lying  there  open  at  the  page  I  was  reading. 

And  he  pointed  to  the  volume. 

"  I  see — it  is  a  story  we  never  finish  quite  in  this  life,  Mor- 
daunt." 

"Ah!  you  philosophize,  my  guest!"  he  said,  with  his  grim 
smile,  "  and  you  are  right.  The  history  of  '  The  Wretched  '  is  that 
of  humanity,  and  it  is  rather  long,  as  I  once  before  said." 

What  an  infinitely  mournful  book  that  is!  What  a  pathos! 
What  a  genius!  Beside  it,  with  all  its  tedium  and  surplusage, 
how  small  all  other  books  of  the  epoch  seem!" 

"You  are  right,"  replied  Mordannt;  "but  in  a  strong  man 
the  death  of  the  old  galley-slave  would  be  unnatural.  Look, 
here  are  the  lines  in  which  the  author  sums  up  his  drama." 

And,  taking  the  volume,  he  read  aloud  : 

"  II  dort.     Quoiquo  le  sort  fut  pour  lui  bicn  6trango 
II  vivait.     II  mour ut  quand  il  n'eut  pas  son  ange : 
La  chose  simplement  dVlle-meme  arriva, 
Comme  la  nuit  se  fait  lorsque  le  jour  s'en  va." 

"  If  all  men  died  when  they  lost  those  who  were  their  good 
angels,"  he  said,  "  what  a  grave-yard  the  world  would  be ! 
The  man  who  is  strong  bears  his  woe  in  silence — if  he  is  wronged, 
he  avenges  himself !" 

And  I  saw  a  stern,  hard  look  in  the  swarthy  face  of  Mordaunt. 
I  knew  he  was  thinking  of  Fenwick,  and  that  his  fierce  spirit 
returned  in  thought  to  that  scene  near  Elm  Cottage.  Then  his 
face  cleared  up  ;  he  resumed  his  tranquillity,  and  said  : 


356  SURRY    OF    EAGLE'S-NEST. 

"  But  we  are  touching  too  much  upon  philosophy,  Surry.  Let 
us  get  to  soraeting  more  cheerful.  You  were  talking  this  evening 
with  young  Saltoun." 

"  Yes ;  he  is  a  splendid  hoy." 

"  As  hrave  a  fellow  as  ever  drew  sabre.  He  has  just  returned 
to  his  command." 

"  And  left  his  heart  behind,  if  I  am  not  mistaken,  at  Elm 
Cottage — has  he  not?  I  break  no  confidence — he  has  told  me 
nothing,  and  I  speak  to  his  friend — but  he  is  evidently  in  love 
with  Violet  Grafton." 

Mordaunt  turned  his  head  quickly,  but  immediately  became  as 
calm  as  before. 

"  Ah !  you  tbink  that,  do  you  ?"  he  said  in  a  low  tone. 

"  Yes,"  I  replied. 

"  "Well,"  was  the  cool  response  of  Mordaunt,  "  he  will  make 
her  a  very  good  husband." 

"  You  think  she  will  marry  him!"  I  exclaimed. 

"  Why  not  ?"  came  as  coolly  as  ever. 

"  You  astonish  me,  Mordaunt !  Violet  Grafton  marry  this 
gay  youngster  !     Why,  he  would  never  suit  her." 

"  My  dear  Surry,"  was  the  cold  reply,  "  do  you  think  that 
women,  when  they  love,  inquire  if  the  individual  in  question 
will  '  suit  them  V  You  are  a  novice  if  you  think  so,  or  imagine 
that  like  takes  to  like !  This  young  man,  Harry  Saltoun,  is 
what  the  French  call  the  '  flower  of  the  peas  '  -  all  life,  gayety,  and 
sunshine.  Miss  Grafton  is  tranquil,  pensive,  and  serious.  There 
is  your  marriage  made  at  once !" 

And  Mordaunt  smiled ;  but  I  could  see  that  there  was  little 
gayety  in  his  dark  face. 

"Well,"  I  said,  "perhaps  you  know  best;  but  there  is  an- 
other circumstance  which  threatens  to  mix  itself  up  with  the 
affair." 

"  What  is  that  ?" 

"  The  love  of  your  protege  Achmed  for  the  same  person." 

"  Ah  !  you  have  observed  that,  too !  You  are  discern- 
ing." 

"  It  was  made  perfectly  plain  that  night  when  he  picked  up 


A  CUM  ED.  357 

the  young  lady's  handkerchief,  and  by  his  burning  glances  direct- 
ed toward  her  afterward." 

"  Well,"  said  Mordaunt  indifferently,  "  I  don't  think  Miss 
Grafton  will  ever  unite  herself  with  this  young  leopard ;  but  she 
would  not  thereby  debase  herself." 

"  Is  it  possible  that  you  think  so,  Mordaunt  ?  Miss  Grafton 
marry  your  servant!" 

"  Achmed  is  not  my  servant — he  is  my  friend.  He  is  the  son 
of  a  sheik,  and,  in  his  own  country,  ranks  as  a  nobleman." 

"  Still  he  waits  upon  you." 

"  Yes,  as  a  son:  lie  does  not  follow  me  fur  gain,  but  from  affec- 
tion. You  look  incredulous — stay  !  I  will  give  you  a  proof  of 
what  I  say." 

And.  reaching  out  his  hand,  Mordaunt  touched  a  small  bell 
upon  the  table,  which  gave  forth  a  single  ringing  note. 

Almost  instantly  the  door  opened  without  noise,  and  the 
young  Moor  stood  before  us. 

Mordaunt  coolly  drew  from  his  pocket  a  heavy  purse  of  gold, 
and,  emptying  its  glittering  contents  upon  the  table,  said  some 
words  to  Achmed  in  a  language  which  I  did  not  understand. 
The  effect  which  they  produced  was  remarkable.  The  youth 
turned  pale,  and  his  lip  trembled." 

"  I  informed  him,"  said  Mordaunt  to  me,  "  that  I  had  no 
longer  any  need  of  his  services,  and  offered  him  that  gold  as  a 
parting  gift." 

Then  turning  to  Achmed,  he  uttered  a  few  additional  words, — 
like  the  first,  in  Arabic.  This  time  the  effect  was  more  remark- 
able than  before. 

Achmed  trembled  in  all  his  limbs,  his  face  flushed,  tears  rushed 
to  his  eyes,  and,  falling  upon  his  knees  before  Mordaunt,  he 
bowed  his  face  in  his  hands  and  burst  into  bitter  sobs,  mingled 
with  accents  so  beseeching,  that,  ignorant  as  I  was  of  the  lan- 
guage in  which  he  spoke,  I  could  not  possibly  misunderstand 
them. 

"  He  prays  me,  by  the  memory  of  his  father,  and  the  grave  of 
his  mother,"  said  Mordaunt  coolly,  "  not  to  make  his  life 
wretched  by  banishing  him  from  my  presence.     I  am  his  life,  the 


358  SURRY    OF    EAGLE'S-NEST. 

poor  boy  says — without,  me,  he  will  die.     I  offer  him  money, 
when  he  would  pour  out  his  heart's  blood  for  me  !" 

Mordaunt  made  no  reply  to  the  Moor  in  his  own  tongue ;  and 
this  silence  seemed  suddenly  to  arouse  all  the  pi'ide  of  the  son  of 
the  desert.  He  rose  to  his  feet;  folded  his  hands  across  his 
bosom,  and,  letting  his  head  fall,  uttered  a  few  words  in  a  tone 
so  proud  and  calm  that  it  was  plain  he  would  say  no  more. 

"  He  says,"  explained  Mordaunt,  "  '  It  is  well.  Kill  me !  The 
son  of  Barach  will  not  disgrace  his  blood — he  does  not  fear  death ! 
Kill  me  !  I  will  never  leave  you  !'     Are  you  satisfied,  Surry?" 

"  Yes,"  I  replied,  filled  with  admiration  by  the  proud  and  reso- 
lute countenance  of  the  young  Moor;  "he  is  a  noble  boy,  and 
you  are  happy  in  having  so  devoted  an  attache  !  " 

Mordaunt  uttered  a  few  words  in  Arabic,  and  again  the  boy 
threw  himself  upon  his  knees,  but  this  time  with  extravagant  in- 
dications of  joy.  Seizing  Mordaunt's  hand,  he  covered  it  with 
kisses,  and  his  eyes,  as  he  raised  them  toward  the  face  of  his 
master,  were  resplendent. 

At  a  word  from  Mordaunt  he  retired,  with  a  step  as  proud  and 
graceful  as  that  of  a  young  lion  in  his  native  desert;  and,  turning 
to  me,  Mordaunt  said  : 

"  You  see  that  the  boy  is  disinterested." 

"  Yes,  I  no  longer  doubt." 

"  But  I  do  not  mean  that  ho  would  be  a  proper  mate  for  a 
young  lady  of  Virginia.  Miss  Grafton  appears  to  me  to  have 
made  a  much  more  rational  selection  in  Lieutenant  Saltoun — if 
such  be  her  selection — I  know  nothing.  He  is  a  gentleman,  and 
there  is  no  braver  officer  in  this  army." 

The  words  were  uttered  with  perfect  coolness — not  a  muscle 
of  the  proud  face  moved ;  and,  knowing  Violet  Grafton's  secret,  I 
could  not  suppress  a  sentiment  of  deep  sympathy  for  the  beauti- 
ful girl.  To  have  placed  her  affections  upon  Mordaunt,  that  stern 
and  haughty  spirit,  and  to  have  done  so,,  as  his  cold  reference  to 
her  probable  marriage  showed,  with  so  little  probability  of  in- 
spiring him  with  a  similar  feeling !  I  thought  I  saw  impending 
a  tragedy  as  sorrowful  as  any  in  Hugo's  volume. 

From  the  fit  of  moody  silence  which  these  reflections  occa- 


IN    A    CARRIAGE    WINDOW.  359 

sioned,  I  was  aroused  by  the  voice  of  ray  host,  who  rose  and  in- 
formed me  that  he  must  return  to  his  command,  which  was  mov- 
ing on.  Would  I  not  accompany  him,  or  spend  the  night  at  his 
house  ? 

These  offers  I  declined,  alleging  my  short  leave,  and  at  the 
door  we  mounted,  to  go  different  ways. 

With  a  grasp  of  his  strong  hand,  Mordaunt  bade  me  farewell ; 
and,  touching  his  powerful  horse  with  the  spur,  disappeared  at 
full  gallop  in  the  darkness.  My  own  road  led  in  the  opposite 
direction,  and,  gaining  the  Gap,  I  passed  through,  crossed  the 
Shenandoah,  and  by  sunrise  reached  General  Jackson's  head- 
quarters near  Millwood. 


CI. 

IN  A  CARRIAGE  WINDOW. 

Millwood  is  a  pleasant  little  village,  dropped  like  a  bird's-nest 
in  the  midst  of  smiling  fields  and  the  foliage  of  noble  forests. 
The  region  around  is  charming — all  flowers  and  pretty  faces. 
So  at  least  it  appeared  to  that  bird  of  passage,  Surry,  who  lightly 
touched  and  went ;  but  not  so  quickly  as  to  miss  seeing  the  bright 
eyes  of  maidens,  true  as  steel  in  blood  and  heart  and  soul  to  the 
cause  of  the  South. 

McOlellan  had  advanced,  but  Jackson  had  halted.  While  the 
Federal  commander  was  streaming  toward  the  Rappahannock, 
Jackson  remained  idle  near  Millwood.  What  did  it  mean  ?  I 
did  not  know  then,  but  now  all  is  plain.  With  that  dangerous 
foe  upon  his  flank,  and  in  a  position  to  strike  his  rear,  McClellan 
advanced  with  doubt  and  fear.  Who  could  tell  at  what  moment 
the  formidable  Stonewall  Jackson  would  put  his  column  in  mo- 
tion, hasten  through  Ashby's  Gap,  and  strike  the  Federal  rear, 
while  Lee  attacked  in  front  ? 

General  McClellan,  however,  continued  to  move  southward, 
Lee  everywhere  facing  him,  when  suddenly  his  head  went  to  the 
block,  and  General  Ambrose  Burnside  reigned  in  his  stead. 


360  SURRY    OF    EAGLE'S-NEST. 

Thus  made  his  final  exit  from  the  stage  the  greatest  of  the 
Federal  commanders. 

"  Off  with  his  head !     So  much  for  Buckingham !" 

The  days  passed  on,  but  we  lingered  still  in  this  lovely  land, 
the  Valley  of  the  Shenandoah.  Slowly  the  glories  of  the  autumn 
faded.  The  russet  brown  of  winter  came,  and  the  trees,  of  late 
so  beautiful  with  their  variegated  trappings,  began  to  be  denuded 
by  the  chill  blasts  preluding  winter.  But  still  the  sunshine  slept 
serenely — dim,  memorial,  and  pensive — on  the  yellow  woods; 
the  wild  geese  made  the  far  depths  of  the  November  heavens 
musical  with  their  plaintive  cry ;  and  any  one  given  to  revery 
and  dreams  might  have  found  still  in  the  noble  forests  haunts  full 
of  quiet  beauty,  starred  with  wild  autumn  flowers,  whero  hour 
after  hour  would  glide  by  silently,  and  no  sound  would  be  heard 
but  the  murmur  of  the  Shenandoah,  flowing  to  the  Potomac,  its 
eternity. 

This  land  and  this  people  Jackson  loved  more  than  all  the  rest ; 
and  there  was  not  a  face  that  did  not  glow  with  pleasure,  or  an 
eye  that  did  not  look  brighter  at  his  coming.  His  corps  was  full 
of  young  men  from  this  very  region — the  Second  Regiment,  in- 
deed, was  almost  made  up  of  brave  youths  born  here — and  their 
mothers,  sisters,  and  cousins  constantly  visited  the  camps. 

With  these,  the  famous  General  was  an  enormous  favorite. 
All  the  world  admired  his  great  achievements,  but  the  people  of 
the  Shenandoah  Valley  looked  upon  him  as  their  own  especial 
hero,  their  great  defender  and  beloved  chieftain.  Not  the  strong 
men  only,  who  had  estimated  coolly  his  grand  military  genius, 
nor  the  matrons  who  had  recognized  in  him  the  perfect  type  of 
Christian  manhood— it  was  the  girls  who,  more  than  all,  grew 
wildly  enthusiastic  about  the  shy,  retiring  General  Stonewall,  in 
his  dingy  old  coat,  his  faded  cap,  his  heavy  boots — a  figure  so 
unlike  the  young,  flashing  military  heroes  of  the  imagination!  I 
was  riding  with  him  in  the  neighborhood  of  Millwood  one  day, 
when  we  passed  a  carriage  full  of  young  girls ;  and  I  remember 
bow  one  of  them  looked  at  the  famous  soldier.  As  he  approach- 
ed, the  maiden  leaned  through  the  window,  her  cheeks  glowing, 
her  eyes  sparkling,  and,  ever  as  General  Stonewall  came,  leaned 


IN    A    CARRIAGE    WINDOW.  361 

further  still  and  further,  with  the  same  long,  ardent  gaze,  "all 
her  soul  in  her  eyes,"  until  that  look,  as  if  by  some  irresistible 
magnetism,  drew  his  eyes  to  her  glowing  face.  Wbat  would  you 
give  to  be  looked  at  in  that  manner  by  a  Virginia  girl,  good 
friend  ?  I  tbink  it  would  be  better  than  to  have  a  "  brown-stone 
front  "  on  Fifth  or  any  other  avenue. 

Jackson  caught  the  flashing  glance  of  the  admiring  eyes,  col- 
ored slightly,  saluted,  and  rode  on,  followed  bv  those  sparkling 
eyes.     At  least  she  had  seen  him  ! 

From  the  woods  below  Millwood  the  General  moved  his  head- 
quarters to  a  picturesque  spot  called  "  The  Glen,"  near  an  old 
house  known  as  "Saratoga."  Here,  for  a  brief  space,  the  white 
tents  glittered  on  the  greensward  in  the  sunshine,  and  the  quiet 
scene  was  full  of  couriers,  noise,  hoof-strokes,  rattling  sabres,  and 
floating  plumes. 

Then  all  this  pa&sed  away.  The  tents  disappeared,  and  silence 
again  reigned  in  the  secluded  glen  of  "  Saratoga." 

Jackson  was  on  the  march. 

The  Federal  army,  under  its  new  commander,  General  Burn- 
side,  had  continued  to  advance  toward  the  Rappahannock.  Soon 
vigorous  attempts  were  made  to  cross  the  upper  waters ;  but 
everywhere  the  blue  column  found  in  its  path  the  serried  ranks 
of  Lee.  To  cross  the  river  in  face  of  the  great  captain  was  a 
hazardous  affair ;  and  Burnside  ehanged  the  direction  of  his 
march,  and  turned  the  head  of  his  column  toward  Fredericks- 
burg. 

When  he  reached  the  heights  on  the  Rappahannock  opposite 
that  town,  there  was  General  Lee  still  facing  h  im. 

Such  was  the  condition  of  things  about  the  1st  of  December, 
when  any  one  who  had  been  in  the  woods  which  cover  the  long 
crest  of  hills  along  the  Massaponnax,  near  Fredericksburg,  might 
have  heard  an  echoing  shout  whieh  rang  for  miles,  and  seemed  to 
indicate  the  reception  of  some  joyful  intelligence  by  the  men  of 
Longstreet. 

The  long-continued  cheering  was  succeeded  by  the  glitter  of 
bayonets,  the  tramp  of  Jackson's  veterans. 

He  had  marched  from  Millwood  up  the  Valley,  passed  the 
16 


362  SURRY    OF    EAGLE'S-NEST. 

Massinutton  and  Blue  Ridge  at  Newmarket  and  Thornton's  Gaps, 
descended  from  the  mountains,  and,  traversing  Orange,  followed 
the  plank  road  through  the  Wilderness  to  the  woods  of  the  Mas- 
saponnax. 

Taking  his  position  on  the  right  of  Longstreet's  corps,  Jacksoa 
prepared  for  another  conflict ;  and  it  soon  took  place. 

His  presence  meant  combat  and  victory. 


on. 

PROM   THE    HILLS    OF   THE    MASSAPONNAX. 

The  region  around  the  hospitable  old  town  of  Fredericksburg 
is  charming  in  the  spring  and  summer.  Even  when  I  saw  it 
first,  at  the  end  of  fall,  it  was  beautiful  and  attractive. 

Come  with  me,  worthy  reader,  and,  instead  of  giving  you  an 
"  official  account "  of  how  the  great  battle  was  fought,  I  will 
point  out  to  you  some  features  of  the  landscape. 

"We  are  standing  on  the  long  wooded  crest  which  sweeps  from 
the  Rappahannock  above,  in  front  of  the  old  town,  and  sinks  into 
the  plain  near  Hamilton's  Crossing.  In  front  of  us  is  an  ex- 
tensive "  bottom,"  traversed  by  a  run,  very  deep,  and  with  pre- 
cipitous banks.  Behind  these  banks  the  Federal  infantry  are 
going  to  take  refuge  from  the  Southern  shot  and  shell.  Beyond 
flows  the  river,  and  upon  its  southern  bank  you  see  the  white 
spires  and  old-fashioned  houses  of  Fredericksburg,  soon  to  be 
torn  by  cannon-balls.  Look  now  to  the  left.  Yonder  is  Marye's 
Hill,  which  the  Irish  Brigade  is  going  to  charge  with  reckless 
gallantry,  strewing  the  ground  with  their  dead,  as  the  merciless 
canister  is  hurled  upon  them  ;  and  below  the  hill,  the  low  stone 
wall  where  Barksdale  will  re-form  his  line  when  the  enemy  cross  ; 
and  Generals  Cobb  and  Cooke  will  fall  at  the  same  moment — one 
of  them  killed,  and  the  other  dangerously  wounded. 

Along  the  crest,  from  Marye's  Tlill  eastward,  you  see  the  em- 
battled lines  of  Longstreet,  flanked  with  cannon.  On  his 
right,  extending  to  Hamilton's  Crossing,  is  the  corps  of  Jack- 


THE    HILLS    OF    THE    MASSAPONNAX.     363 

son,  bristling  with  artillery,  posted  upon  every  hillock,  especially 
above  the  crossing,  where  the  battalions  of  Walker  wait,  ready 
to  sweep  the  plain,  when  General  Franklin  rushes  forward  to 
turn  Lee's  right  and  drive  him  back. 

Still  further  to  tfie  right  you  see  the  extensive  plain  which 
stretches  along  the  Massaponnax,  emptying  below  into  the  Rap- 
pahannock. The  level  roads  are  skirted  by  deep  ditches  and 
long  rows  of  beautiful  cedars.  In  those  ditches  the  Federal 
sharpshooters  are  going  to  crouch,  within  one  hundred  yards  of 
the  muzzles  of  our  cannon,  and  pick  off  the  cannoneers  in  spite 
of  all  the  canister  which  sweeps  above  them,  tearing  through 
the  cedars. 

In  the  woods  beyond,  Stuart's  cavalry  will  be  drawn  up,  ready 
to  take  part  in  the  battle,  if  the  Southern  flank  is  turned  ;  and 
in  the  great  field  on  Jackson's  right,  Stuart  will  mass  his  artil- 
lery, and — debarred  from  charging  with  his  horsemen  by  the 
yawning  ditches — show,  by  the  stubborn,  daring,  and  invincible 
handling  of  his  pieces,  that,  if  he  were  not  the  most  famous  of 
all  cavalry  commanders,  he  would  be  one  of  the  greatest  of 
artillerists. 

One  feature  of  the  landscape  we  have  not  yet  noted — the 
heights  beyond  the  river  yonder.  That  house  upon  the  hill, 
where  the  banner  of  the  stars  and  stripes  is  rippling  in  the  wind, 
is  "  Chatham  " — and  some  Federal  general  has  taken  it  for  his 
head-quarters.  Those  blue  specks  upon  the  northern  bank  are 
"Yankee  pickets."  See  that  blue  horseman  riding  along  the 
crest — it  is  an  officer  reconnoitring. 

On  the  11th  of  December — was  it  not? — the  great  struggle 
began. 

At  daylight,  the  Federal  pioneers,  as  busy  as  beavers,  were 
heard  putting  together  the  pontoons,  in  the  fog,  opposite  the 
town ;  and,  in  spite  of  a  rapid  fire  from  Barksdale's  brave 
Mississippians,  who  held  the  town,  the  bridges  were  built,  and  a 
column  was  thrown  across. 

Barksdale  retreated,  fighting  from  street  to  street ;  and  soon 
the  thunder  of  artillery  began.  Shot  and  shell  raked  the  streets 
of   the  town,   tearing   down   the   chimneys   and    riddling  the 


364:  SURRY   OF    EAGLE'S-NEST. 

houses ;  but  Barksdale  held  his  ground — and  it  was  not  until  an 
overpowering  force  of  infantry  assailed  him  that  he  doggedly 
retired  behind  the  stone  wall  beneath  Marye's  Hill. 

All  day  the  unfortunate  town  was  heavily  bombarded.  More 
than  one  hundred  guns  was  fired  every  minute. 

As  night  descended,  the  glare  of  burning  houses,  set  on  fire  by 
shell,  lit  up  the  landscape ;  and  the  sullen  roar  of  an  occasional 
gun  seemed  to  indicate  that  the  ire  of  the  assailants  was  not 
sated. 

That  bitter  December  night  the  roads  were  full  of  women, 
many  of  them  with  bare  feet,  who  carried  in  their  arms  their 
infants.  They  had  hastily  fled,  and,  in  the  corners  of  fences,  or 
beneath  the  bleak  winter  trees,  shivered  till  morning. 

When  the  sun  rose,  the  Federal  army  was  drawn  up  upon  the 
southern  bank. 

General  Lee  had  made  no  movement  to  prevent  them  from 
crossing. 


cm. 


"IT    IS   WELL    THIS   IS    SO   TERRIBLE— WE  WOULD  GROW 

TOO   FOND    OF   IT!" 

Before  dawn  on  the  morning  of  the  great  conflict,  Jackson 
was  in  the  saddle,  and,  joining  General  Lee,  rode  to  the  right  to 
reconnoitre. 

He  was  dressed,  on  this  day,  in  an  entirely  new  suit.  His 
overcoat  was  dark  blue,  lined  with  red ;  his  cap  blazing  with 
gold  lace  ;  his  uniform-coat,  which  Stuart  had  given  him  in  the 
"Valley,  flaming  with  its  new  brass  buttons. 

The  troops  scarcely  knew  him,  and,  when  he  had  passed  one 
of  his  regiments,  a  soldier  was  heard  to  say : 

"That  finely-dressed  officer  Old  Jack  ?     No,  sir  /" 

Below  the  Crossing  we  met  Stuart,  and  the  three  generals 
rode  down  the  "stage  road,"  to  reconnoitre.  The  enemy 
were  already  advancing  through  the  fog,  and  very  soon  the  whiz 


"IT    IS    WELL,"    ETC.  365 

of  bullets  indicated  that  the  Federal  sharpshootei  s  had  descried 
the  dusky  figures. 

Stuart  gave  an  order,  and  a  piece  of  artillery  was  seen  moving 
across  the  field  to  the  right.  Soon  its  thunders  were  heard,  and 
a  Federal  battery  in  front  replied. 

The  three  generals  now  rode  to  the  top  of  the  hill  above 
Hamilton's  Crossing.  From  the  right  came  the  steady  and  con- 
tinuous roar  of  the  single  gun— under  Pelham — sent  thither  by 
Stuart.  About  three  batteries,  a  few  hundred  yards  in  its  front, 
had  opened  upon  it ;  and  an  enfilading  fire  was  raking  the  field 
from  thirty-pound  Parrotts  across  the  river.  But  Pelham  fought 
on. 

General  Lee  looked  in  the  direction  of  the  fire. 

"It  is  glorious  to  see  such  courage  in  one  so  young,"  he  said. 

And,  in  his  official  dispatch,  he  immortalized  the  young  Alaba- 
mian  by  speaking  of  him  as  "the  gallant  Pelham."  To  be  the 
sole  officer  below  the  rank  of  Major-General  mentioned  by  Lee 
— and  to  be  called  "  the  gallant  Pelham  !" 

That  is  better  than  a  scrawl  from  any  war  department ! 

As  the  dense  fog  lifted,  and  the  sun  shone  through  it,  the  dark 
Federal  lines  rushed  forward  across  the  plain,  and  charged 
Jackson's  front  with  desperation. 

They  were  met  with  a  murderous  fire  of  musketry;  the  guns 
ou  the  crest  above  opened  all  at  once  their  iron  mouths,  and 
the  battle  began  to  rage  with  fury. 

The  column  which  assailed  the  right  wing,  under  Jackson, 
numbered  fifty-five  thousand  men,  under  Generals  Franklin 
Hooker,  and  others — see  their  reports.  At  Sharpsburg,  McClel- 
lan  decided  to  overwhelm  Lee's  left,  and  was  met  by  Jackson. 
At  Fredericksburg,  General  Burnside  decided  to  flank  and  drive 
back  Lee's  right,  and  found  Jackson  in  his  way. 

If  that  assault  had  succeeded,  Lee's  right  would  have  been 
turned,  his  line  forced  back,  and  the  enemy  would  have  stormed 
his  position. 

It  failed.  Jackson  met  it  with  his  first  line.  This  was  broken 
through,  and  he  met  it  with  his  second,  which  completely  re- 
pulsed  the   assault.     D.   H.   Hill's   reserve   was  not   engaged. 


366  SURKY  OF  EAGLE'S-NEST. 

Jackson's  whole  force  in  the  fight  was  less  than  fifteen  thou- 
sand. 

This  hattle  was  a  remarkable  one.  The  Federal  troops  fought 
hard,  hut  apparently  without  heart.  At  one  time  they  seemed 
about  to  carry  the  hill — but  those  who  had  rushed  up  the  slope 
were  driven  back  with  the  bayonet. 

Meanwhile  Stuart,  in  the  great  field  beyond  the  Crossing,  was 
fighting  about  thirty  pieces  of  artillery,  with  desperation.  Pel- 
ham  commanded  under  him,  and  fought  like  a  veteran  of  a  hun- 
dred battles.  Behind  the  woods,  near  by,  the  long  line  of 
cavalry  waited  to  take  part  in  the  action  if  the  right  was 
turned. 

Jackson  had  just  brought  up  his  second  line  to  repulse  the 
enemy,  who  had  broken  through  his  first,  as  I  have  said,  when  I 
was  sent  to  General  Lee  with  a  message. 

I  found  him  on  the  eminence  in  front  of  Longstreet's  line,  now 
known  as  "  Lee's  Hill,"  and  was  much  impressed  by  his  perfect 
calmness,  as  I  have  everywhere  been.  As  I  turned  away  after 
delivering  my  message,  loud  cheers  came  from  the  right,  and, 
looking  across  the  plain,  I  saw  the  Federal  line  rapidly  falling 
back,  hotly  pursued  by  Jackson's  troops,  firing  volleys  as  they 
rushed  forward. 

General  Lee's  face  filled  with  blood,  and  his  eye  flashed. 
Turning  to  one  of  his  generals,  who  stood  near,  he  said,  as  he 
drew  his  old  riding-cape  around  his  shoulders : 

"  It  is  well  this  is  so  terrible — we  would  grow  too  fond  of 
it  I"* 

Those  deep-toned  words  still  ring  in  my  ears. 

When  I  reached  the  crest  above  Hamilton's  Crossing  again,  I 
found  Jackson  directing  the  fire  of  his  artillery  on  the  slope  of 
the  crest.  I  had  never  seen  him  more  thoroughly  aroused. 
His  cheeks  were  flushed,  and  his  eyes  glowed.  The  murderous 
five  of  shot  and  shell  which  swept  the  crest  from  the  crowd- 
ing batteries  of  the  enemy  in  front  seemed  to  produce  no 
effect  upon  him,  although  men  and  horses  were  falling  every 
minute. 

*  Tlis  words. 


•'IT    IS    WELL,1'    ETC.  367 

As  I  made  my  report,  a  shell  crashed  through  a  caisson,  with- 
in twenty  yards,  and  it  blew  up  with  a  noise  like  thunder. 
Jackson  did  not  move  a  muscle. 

"Major,"  he  said,  in  his  brief  accents,  ''present  my  compli- 
ments to  General  Stuart,  and  tell  him  I  am  going  to  advance  and 
attack  with  the  bayonet  precisely  at  sunset.  I  wish  him  to 
advance  his  artillery  as  far  as  possible,  and  continue  the  fire. 
Desire  him  not  to  fire  too  much  to  the  left — he  may  injure  my 
men."* 

I  found  Stuart  in  the  great  field,  swept  by  a  tempest  of  shell, 
superintending  the  fire  of  his  artillery. 

The  ditches  in  his  immediate  front  were  full  of  Federal  sharp- 
shooters, who  kept  up  a  galling  fire  upon  the  cannoneers,  at  close 
and  deadly  range.  A  bullet  had  cut  off  a  lock  of  Stuart's  hair 
and  as  I  was  speaking  with  him  two  others  struck  his  saddle 
and  military  satchel. 

When  I  delivered  my  message  his  face  glowed. 

I  was  about  to  ride  off  when  a  courier  galloped  up  from  Gene- 
ral W.  H.  F.  Lee,  I  think,  and  said  something  which  I  did  not 
hear. 

Stuart's  blue  eyes  flashed. 

"Tell  the  General  all's  well,"  he  said,  "  and  that  I  am  going 
to  crowd  'em  with  artillery  !"t 

As  I  rode  back,  expecting  at  every  instant  to  be  hurled  from 
the  saddle  by  the  round-shot  which  swept  the  plain,  I  saw  the 
sun  poised  like  a  ball  of  fire  upon  the  woods,  and  then  to  the 
right  and  left,  from  Jackson  and  Stuart,  came  the  redoubled 
thunders  of  the  charge.  The  artillery  was  charging  as  well  as 
the  infantry,  and  the  dusky  plains,  upon  which  the  shades  of 
night  began  to  descend,  became  the  scene  of  a  desperate  and 
6anguinary  struggle. 

It  was  soon  decided.  As  night  fell,  the  enemy  retreated  from 
Jackson's  front,  and  Stuart  pushed  forward,  "crowding  'em 
with  artillery,"  as  he  had  promised.  Soon  only  a  sullen  gun  at 
intervals  replied — darkness  descended,  and  the  bloody  fight  had 
ended. 

*  His  words.  t  His  words. 


368  SURRY    OF    EAGLE'S   NEST. 

In  front  of  Marye's  Hill,  the   Federal  assault  had  been  re 
pulsed,  as  upon    the  right — and  though  for  some  reason  which 
I  never    could    clearly  understand,  Jackson  did  not  make   his 
intended  charge  with  the  bayonet  and  drive  the  enemy  into  the 
river,  the  victory  was  none  the  less  perfect. 

General  Lee  had  here  thrown  into  action — counting  the 
forces  fighting  in  every  portion  of  the  field — less  than  twenty- 
five  thousand  men  in  all.  Against  his  right  alone,  the  enemy 
had  thrown  a  column  of  fifty -five  thousand  men,  under  one  of  their 
ablest  generals — as  the  testimony  of  General  Burnside  before  the 
Committee  of  Investigation  shows. 

"Why  was  a  force  so  considerable  unable  to  drive  Jackson  from 
his  position?     I  know  not — I  only  know  that  they  did  not. 

When  the  sun  went  down  upon  the  battle-field,  General  Lee 
regarded  the  attack  as  only  the  prelude  of  a  more  determined 
assault  on  the  next  morning — his  repulse  of  the  Federal  forces  a 
mere  incident  of  the  drama. 

He  had  achieved  a  complete  victory.* 


CIY. 

PELHAM    AND    JEAN. 

Night  had  fallen,  and  the  weary  troops  slept  on  their  arms, 
awaiting  the  more  decisive  attack  which  they  expected  on  the 
next  day. 

Along  the  narrow  and  winding  road  which  led  in  rear  of  the 
line  of  battle  from  Hamilton's  Crossing  to  General  Lee's  head- 
quarters, near  the  Telegraph  road,  couriers  came  and  went,  bear- 
ing dispatches  or  orders. 

Jackson  was  up  during  the  whole  night;  and  about  midnight 
an  orderly  woke  me,  to  say  that  the  General  wished  to  see  me. 
I  immediately  repaired  to  his  tent,  and  found  him  busily  writing 
— his  candle  having  been  carefully  shaded,  so  as  not  to  throw  its 
light  upon  the  eyes  or  a  friend  who  that  night  shared  his  bed. 

*  The  incidents  of  this  chapter  are  all  historical 


PELHAM    AND    JEAN.  369 

Before  the  General  had  finished  the  sentence  which  he  was 
writing,  the  sound  of  horse's  hoofs  was  heard  without,  and  the 
orderly  came  to  say  that  an  officer  wished  to  see  him. 

"  Come  in,"  was  the  reply. 

And  a  young  officer  entered,  and  saluted. 

"General,"  he  said,  "I  am  sent  by  General  Gregg,  who  was 
mortally  wounded  to-day,  to  say  on  his  part,  that  in  a  recent 
letter  he  wrote  you,  which  you  considered  disrespectful,  he  had 
no  intention  of  wounding  your  feelings,  but  was  actuated  solely 
by  what  he  believed  to  be  the  good  of  the  service.  He  is  now 
dying,  and  begs  your  forgiveness." 

The  young  man  again  saluted,  and  waited  hat  in  hand. 

Jackson  rose  quickly,  and  his  face  exhibited  strong  feeling. 

"  Tell  General  Gregg  I  will  be  with  him  immediately,"  he  said ; 
and,  summoning  his  servant,  he  ordered  his  horse  to  be  saddled 
at  once. 

As  soon  as  the  animal  was  ready  he  mounted,  and,  making  a 
sign  to  me  to  follow  him,  rode  rapidly,  guided  by  the  young 
officer,  to  General  Gregg's  head-quarters. 

Dismounting  hastily  in  front  of  the  tent  occupied  by  the 
wounded  soldier,  he  entered  it  alone — upon  this  interview  I  felt 
that  no  one  should  intrude.  I  only  saw,  as  the  tent-flap  fell,  a 
pale  face,  some  bleeding  bandages,  and  a  weak  hand  held  out,  as 
Jackson,  with  flushed  face,  hastened  to  the  sufferer's  side.*  Then 
the  canvas  fell. 

What  took  place  on  that  dark  night,  between  the  great  leader 
and  the  noble  soldier  who  did  not  wish  to  die  without  his  for- 
giveness? I  know  not.  But,  when  Jackson  at  length  came  out, 
there  were  traces  of  tears  in  his  eyes,  and  for  some  time  he  rode 
on  in  silence.  As  he  went  on  through  the  darkness,  I  saw  him 
more  than  once  raise  his  right  arm  aloft,  with  that  singular  ges- 
ture habitual  to  him,  and  look  upward,  with  lips  moving.  He 
was  praying  for  the  friend  about  to  die. 

At  last  he  seemed  to  banish  these  gloomy  feelings,  and  by  an 
effort  of  the  will  return  to  the  hard  routine  of  business. 


*  Historical. 
15* 


370  SURET    OF    E AGLE'S-NEST. 

"Major,"  he  said,  "I  wish  you  to  ride  to  General  Stuart's 
head-quarters,  and  request  him  to  send  Major  Pelham  to  me.  I 
have  special  need  for  him  to-night,  and  T  beg  you  will  not  return 
without  him." 

I  saluted,  and  immediately  set  out  for  "Camp  No-Camp,"  the 
head-quarters  of  Stuart,  on  the  Telegraph  road,  near  General 
Lee's  quarters. 

I  was  there  informed  that  Major  Pelham  had  not  yet  returned 
from  the  field,  and  that  I  would  probably  find  him  at  the  bivouac 
of  his  horse  artillery,  somewhere  in  the  fields  beyond  Hamilton's 
Crossing. 

This  was  somewhat  discouraging,  as  an  additional  ride  of 
three  or  four  miles  on  a  freezing  cold  night  was  before  me  ;  but 
it  had  to  be  taken,  and,  wrapping  my  cape  around  my  face  to 
shield  it  from  the  bitter  wind,  I  rode  on  and  soon  reached  the 
Crossing. 

Across  the  bare  bleak  fields,  which  had  been  so  lately  swept 
by  a  hurricane  of  shell,  glimmered  the  dying  light  of  camp-fires; 
and  after  much  delay  I  succeeded  in  finding  the  spot  where  Pel- 
ham's  artillery  had  camped — that  is,  halted  the  pieces,  and  built 
fires  of  rails. 

Around  one  of  these  fires,  which  threw  its  ruddy  glare  on  the 
grim  cannon  near,  and  the  weary  horses  tethered  to  the  wheels, 
was  a  group  of  rudely-dressed  men,  among  whom  I  recognized 
Antonio,  Rossini,  Dominic,  and  other  members  of  the  "  Napoleon 
Detachment,"  which  had  fought  their  Napoleon,  singing  the  loud 
Marseillaise,  that  day  of  the  attack  near  The  Oaks,  i 

In  the  centre  of  the  group  I  saw  Pelham — the  fire  clearly 
lighting  up  his  slender  figure  and  beardless  face.  He  was  kneel- 
ing upon  one  knee  and  supporting  upon  his  breast  the  bleeding 
form  of  a  boy  of  fifteen,  who  had  been  nearly  torn  to  pieces  by  a 
fragment  of  shell,  and  was  evidently  dying. 

The  poor  boy  was  plainly  suffering  agonies  from  his  mortal 
wound,  which  a  surgeon  had  rudely  bandaged  ;  and  his  exclama- 
tions in  French  and  broken  English  were  touching. 

'■'•Jesus  Seigneur/'''  he  exclaimed,  in  heart-rending  accents,  as 
I  drew  near,  "  I  suffer  ! — how  I  suffer,  mon  capitaine  /" 


PELHAM    AND    JEAN.  371 

And  raising  his  head,  which  rested  upon  Pelham's  breast,  he 
gazed  on  the  young  officer's  face  with  a  look  so  helpless  and  ap- 
pealing, that  the  quick  tears  started  to  my  eyes. 

"Try  to  bear  it,  Jean,"  said  Pelhani,  in  a  low  voice,  "you  are 
among  your  friends — you  know  we  love  you  " — 

There  he  broke  down,  and,  turning  away  his  head,  uttered  a 
sob.  The  rude  cannoneers  around  looked  grimly  on,  silent  be- 
fore the  scene. 

"  Oh  !  to  die  !"  murmured  the  wounded  boy,  sinking  back  in 
Pelham's  arms,  "to  die,  and  I  so  young!  What  will  mother 
say? — ma  mere  ! — it  will  kill  her!  You,  too,  mon  capitaine  /" 
he  added  sobbing,  "  you,  too,  will  be  sorry  for  the  pauvre  Jean, 
will  you  not?  I  followed  you  from  Alabama — I  have  fought 
with  you  in  so  many  battles! — and  one  day — holdl  I  die  with 
that  at  my  heart,  mon  capitaine ! — one  day  you  said  to  me, 
'  Brave  Jean  /'     Yes,  you  said  that — did  you  not?1' 

And,  half  rising  from  the  earth,  the  boy  threw  back  his  head, 
and  clung  with  both  arms  around  Pelham's  neck. 

"You  called  me  orate — it  is  enough!"  he  murmured.  "Tell 
ma  mere!  fought  like  a  good  soldier,  0  mon  capitaine! — that 
you  were  satisfied  with  Jean !  He  dies  loving  you — the  brave 
of  braves — his  dear,  his  only  friend !  When  you  go  back  to  our 
home  in  Alabama,  tell  them  all,  that  Jean  fought  under  you,  and 
did  his  duty.  '  Brave  Jean  /'  you  said.  0  mon  Dieu  !  I  suffer 
so — but — and — I  die — in  your  arms,  mon  capitaine  /" 

The  head  fell  back,  and  the  pale  lips  uttered  their  last  sigh. 
But,  even  in  death,  the  boy's  arms  clung  around  Pelham's  neck 
— his  face  rested  on  his  bosom. 

The  rough  group  stirred  and  murmured. 

"  Grand  Dieu  ! — he  is  gone  !"  muttered  the  swarthy  Antonio. 

"  II  est  mort  /"  echoed  Rossini,  making  the  sign  of  the  cross. 

Pelham  gently  unclasped  the  cold  arms  of  the  boy,  and  laid 
the  stiffening  form  upon  the  grass.  His  face  was  wet  with  tears, 
and,  when  some  of  the  men  spoke  to  him,  he  waved  them  off 
with  his  hand. 

For  some  moments  he  stood  gazing  into  the  fire,  from  which 
his  glance  would  turn  toward  the  body  of  Jean. 


372  SURRY    OF    EAGLE'S-  N  EST. 

"  Poor  boy  !"  he  murmured,  passing  his  hand  across  his  eyes, 
"he  loved  me.     There  was  nobody  braver!" 

There  he  stopped.  But  in  a  few  moments  he  had  mastered  his 
emotion,  and  turned  to  me.  I  delivered  my  message,  and,  after 
giving  directions  for  the  burial  of  Jean,  Pelham  called  for  his 
horse. 

"  Poor  Jean  !"  I  heard  him  murmur  again  ;  "  what  can  I  say 
to  his  mother  when  I  go  back  to  Alabama ! " 

All  at  once  he  went  to  where  the  body  of  the  young  cannoneer 
was  lying,  and,  stooping  down,  cut  off  a  lock  of  his  light,  curling 
hair,  and  carefully  placed  it  in  his  breast-pocket. 

"  It  will  be  something,"  he  said. 

And  he  mounted  his  horse  and  rode  with  me  back  to  Jackson's 
head-quarters. 

I  recall  still,  and  could  easily  repeat,  our  conversation  as  we 
rode  on  through  the  darkness  ;  but  all  do  not  take  that  loving 
interest  in  Pelham's  memory  which  I  do.  Every  word  he  uttered 
then,  and  always,  is  engraved  upon  my  memory,  and  I  recall, 
with  a  sad  and  longing  sense  of  loss,  a  feeling  of  bereavement 
which  nothing  can  satisfy,  the  hours  I  passed  with  him — his 
voice,  his  eyes,  his  smiles. 

"We  reached  Jackson's  head-quarters,  and  Pelham  was  received 
with  that  cordial  pressure  of  the  hand  which  the  General  be- 
stowed upon  those  who  were  favorites  with  him.  I  knew  the 
opinion  which  he  had  formed  of  Pelham,  from  their  first  meet- 
ing on  the  day  of  Cold  Harbor,  and  now  saw  that  Jackson  had  a 
higher  regard  for  him  than  ever. 

His  object  in  sending  for  the  young  artillerist  was  a  proof  of 
this.  He  wished  him  to  direct  and  superintend,  in  person,  the 
fortification  of  his  line  for  the  next  day's  battle ;  *  and,  as  soon 
as  he  had  possessed  .himself  of  the  General's  views,  Pelham  en- 
ergetically applied  himself  to  the  work.  JJeavy  details  were 
placed  at  his  orders ;  he  superintended  and  directed  the  work 
throughout  the  night,  without  further  orders;  and  at  dawn  the 
task  waa  finished. 

*  Historical. 


"CAMP    NO-CAMP."  373 

When  Jackson  Inspected,  in  the  morning,  the  defences  which 
had  thus  arisen  like  magic,  he  said  to  General  Stuart,  who  ac- 
companied him  : 

"  Have  you  another  Pelham,  General  ?  If  so,  I  wish  you 
would  give  him  to  me  !"  * 

Those  works  saved  hundreds  of  lives  during  the  cannonade, 
which  soon  began  ;  but  they  were  not  to  have  their  value  tested 
by  a  charge  of  the  enemy's  infantry.  That  attack  of  the  pre- 
ceding day  had  been  the  decisive  assault,  and  the  Federal  forces 
could  not  be  brought  up  again.  General  Burnside  directed  a 
Becond  attack,  but  his  ablest  and  most  determined  major-generals 
went  to  him  and  protested  against  the  order,  declaring  that  the 
troops  could  not  be  induced  to  make  the  assault— their  morale 
was  destroyed.     See  the  testimony  of  General  Burnside. 

All  day  on  Sunday  and  Monday  the  dense  masses  of  the 
Federal  army  remained  in  line  of  battle  on  the  Southern  shore 
of  the  Rappahannock,  their  bands  playing,  their  flags  floating, 
their  artillery  in  position  for  a  renewal  of  the  assault. 

On  Tuesday  morning  they  had  disappeared. 

Thus  ended  the  campaign  of  1862. 


cv. 

RECOLLECTIONS    OP    "CAMP    NO-CAMP." 

"We  spent  the  winter  of  1862  at  Moss  Neck,  an  old  mansion  oa 
the  crest  of  hills  which  stretches  along  the  Rappahannock, 
several  miles  below  Fredericksburg. 

Jackson's  sojourn  there  will  form  a  pleasant  chapter  in  that 
life  of  him  which,  sooner  or  later,  will  be  written  by  a  competent 
person. 

He  occupied  first  a  small  outbuilding — a  sort  of  office — hung 
round  with  pictures  of  race-horses,  game-cocks,  and  terriers 
tearing  rats.  One  day  when  Stuart  came  to  see  the  General,  he 
said: 

•  Hia  word*. 


374  SURRY    OF    EAGLE'S-NEST. 

"  I  intend  to  have  a  drawing  made  of  this  room — game-cocks, 
terriers,  and  all — and  label  it,  "  View  of  the  head-quarters  of  the 
famous  Stonewall  Jackson,  showing  the  tastes  and  propensities  oj 
the  individual  /" 

At  these  jests  of  the  great  cavalier,  Jackson  always  laughed 
heartily.  He  had  conceived  a  very  great  regard  and  affection  for 
Stuart — as  a  cavalry  officer,  he  ranked  him  above  all  others  in 
that  arm  of  the  service. 

Does  the  reader  remember  that  fine  cap  worn  at  the  battle 
of  Fredericksburg,  with  its  band  of  gold  lace  ?  It  was  soon 
denuded  of  its  decoration.  One  day  a  little  girl  admired  it,  and, 
drawing  her  to  him,  Jackson  tore  off  the  rich  braid,  placed  it 
like  a  coronet  upon  her  curls,  and  enjoyed  the  delight  which 
his  gift  occasioned  the  child. 

But  these  traits  of  the  illustrious  soldier  will  all,  some  day,  be 
delineated  fully.  I  am  not  writing  a  life  of  General  Jackson, 
but  the  memoirs  of  Lieutenant-Colonel  Surry. 

" Lieutenant- Colonel  Surry?"  I  think  I  hear  the  reader 
exclaim:  "Is  there  not  a  slight  mistake?"  Not  at  all, 
may  it  please  the  worthy  reader.  About  this  time  General 
Jackson  was  made  Lieutenant-General ;  his  staff  went  up 
one  grade;  and  it  seemed  good  to  the  "War  Department  to 
send  Major  Surry  the  appointment  of  Lieutenant-Colonel  and 
A.  A.  G. — than  which  rank  he  never  got  any  further  during  the 
war. 

So,  after  all  that  hard  marching  of  the  year  1862,  we  were 
resting.  It  had  been  a  memorable  year,  full  of  the  thunder  of 
artillery,  the  crash  of  small  arms,  the  clatter  of  sabres,  the 
cheers,  yells,  shouts,  and  groans  of  adversaries  closing  in  the 
breast-to-breast  struggle — and  I  think  that  both  sides  were  glad 
to  rest.  It  had  been  the  first  decisive  trial  of  strength  upon  the 
whole  great  arena  of  Virginia;  and  the  opponents  seemed  to 
have  exhausted  themselves.  On  the  Federal  side,  scarcely  a 
single  commander  who  had  met  Jackson  remained.  Generals 
Banks,  Shields,  Fremont,  Milroy,  Pope,  McClellan,  and  Bum- 
side  had  all  disappeared.  The  baton  had  dropped  from  their 
hands — their  heads  fallen — they  had  vanished  from  all  eyes,  amid 


"CAMP    NO-CAMP."  375 

the  smoke  of  disaster  and  defeat.     Lee  and  Jackson  still  stood 
immovable  on  the  banks  of  the  Rappahannock. 

Had  the  country  been  as  resolute  as  the  army  and  the  women, 
the  red  battle-Hag  would  float  there  still,  instead  of  drooping 
yonder,  furled,  with  no  hand  to  give  it  to  the  winds — furled  and 
dragged  in  the  dust  of  defeat,  but  glorious  forever ! 

During  the  winter  I  spent  some  days,  on  furlough,  at  Eagle's- 
Nest ;  and  whom  should  I  meet  there  but  a  youth  named 
Charles  Beverley — evidently  intent  on  the  capture  of  Miss  Annie 
Surry  ! 

Charley's  regiment  was  encamped  not  far  from  Port  Royal, 
and  I  strongly  suspect  that  the  youth  was  frequently  absent 
from  roll-call,  without  the  shadow  of  permission  !  He  seemed 
to  think,  however,  that  his  hours  at  Eagle's-Nest  more  than 
counterbalanced  "  extra  duty"  in  the  way  of  punishment — and  I 
soon  saw  that  Annie  had  made  up  her  youthful  mind. 

They  are  married  now,  reader,  and  Charley  is  a  model  hus- 
band.    So  they  vanish ! 

About  the  same  time  came  the  news  of  Will's  marriage  with 
Jenny  Clayton !  That  young  lady  had  captured  him — as  Annie 
had  captured  Charley — and  a  gilt-edged  note,  with  a  request  for 
the  pleasure  of  our  company,  came  by  flag  of  truce,  through  the 
lines !  "Will  had  written  on  it:  "  How  are  you,  brother  ?  I  am 
bagged  at  last!" — and  he  wrote  the  other  day  that  Jenny  was 
the  pearl  of  her  sex. 

But  I  am  getting  ahead  too  fast.  Let  me  return  to  the  old 
days,  and  recall  some  of  the  faces  and  scenes  which  illustrated 
them. 

I  was  often  at  the  jovial  head-quarters  of  Stuart,  on  the  Tele- 
graph road,  a  few  miles  from  Fredericksburg.  His  flag  had 
been  erected  in  a  great  field  of  broom-straw,  sheltered  by  a 
thicket  of  pines  from  the  chill  northwest  winds ;  and  against 
the  evergreens  shone  the  white  tents  of  the  General  and  his 
Btaif.  In  front  of  the  head-quarters  was  a  beautiful  little 
"  Whitworth  "  gun  of  burnished  steel — slender,  delicate,  and 
graceful  as  a  girl.  Above  stretched  the  arms  of  a  great  oak. 
The  horses  were  picketed  beneath  the  pines,  or  in  rude  stables. 


376  SURRY    OF    EAGLE'S-NEST. 

Couriers  came  and  went.  The  red  battle-flag  fluttered  in  the 
frosty  breeze.  From  the  large  tent  in  the  pines  came  the  so- 
norous voice  or  the  ringing  laughter  of  Stuart,  that  "flower 
of  cavaliers." 

In  my  visits  I  constantly  saw  something  new  in  this  man  to 
admire  and  love.  He  had  the  gayest  humor,  the  warmest 
heart,  and  the  most  generous  temper.  He  possessed  the  rough 
cavalry  tendency  to  jests  and  practical  jokes  :  would  tease  you,  if 
he  could,  upon  any  subject,  and  raise  the  laugh  at  your  expense 
without  hesitation : — but  you  were  welcome  to  "strike  back," 
and  as  roughly  as  you  could.  It  was  give-and-take  with  the 
trenchant  swordsman,  and  you  could  not  offend  him.  Writing 
busily  at  his  desk — then  rising  to  walk  up  and  down  and  hum  a 
song — lounging  idly  upon  his  bed  spread  on  the  ground,  and 
playing  with  his  pets,  two  young  setters  he  had  brought  in  front 
of  him  on  his  saddle,  when  he  fell  back  from  Culpepper — laugh- 
ing, jesting  with  his  staff — so  passed  the  hours  of  winter  with 
the  brave  cavalier  at  "  Camp  No-Camp." 

When  weary  of  work  or  talk,  he  would  mount  one  of  his 
horses,  "Lady  Margaret"  or  "Star  of  the  East,"  and  set  off 
to  serenade  some  lady — taking  Sweeny  along,  with  his  banjo. 

For  Sweeny  was  there ! — Sweeny  in  all  his  glory — with  a  new 
"Yankee  banjo,"  the  spoil  of  some  captured  camp,  which  he 
forced  to  give  forth  now  the  gay  songs  of  Dixie!  It  was 
"  The  bonnie  blue  flag,"  and  "  We  are  the  boys  that  rode  around 
McClelKan,"  and  "  I  wish  I  was  in  Dixie,"  which  Sweeny 
played  and  sang,  with  his  sad  and  courteous  face  unmoved  by 
the  mirth;  and  these  were  always  succeeded  by  "Sweet  Eve- 
lina," "  Faded  Flowers,"  "  I  lay  ten  dollars  down,"  and  the 
"  Old  Gray  Hoss " — perennial  favorites  with  the  denizens  of 
"  Camp  No-Camp." 

You  can  see  the  worthy  Sweeny — can  you  not,  my  dear 
reader  ? — sitting  there  at  the  corner  of  the  fireplace  in  the  large 
tent,  his  banjo  on  his  knee,  his  fingers  flying  over  the  strings, 
his  foot  keeping  time,  and  only  the  ghost  of  a  smile  upon  his 
face  as  he  advises  you,  "if  you  want  to  have  a  good  time,"  to 
"  jine  the  cavalry!" 


"CAMP    NO-CAMP."  377 

And  look!  at  the  door  yonder!  Is  not  that  gigantic  figure, 
with  the  flowing  black  beard,  our  old  friend  Hagan — Corporal 
Hagan  no  longer,  as  his  braid  of  a  lieutenant  shows?  It  is 
Hagan,  now  lieutenant  of  the  escort,  and  behind  him  are  tbo 
keen  faces  of  Moonshine  and  Snakebug,  couriers — with  the 
hawk  look,  keener  even  than  Captain  Bogy's  for  wagons, 
spoils,  and  plunder  generally.  Hagan  advances,  salutes  the 
general  and  company  with  rigid  military  respect,  and  is  soon 
engaged  in  parrying  the  thrusts  of  the  general's  wit.  lie 
relates  as  a  pleasing  incident — with  lurking  humor  in  his  eye 
and  a  voice  like  low  thunder — how  Moonshine,  in  an  absent 
moment,  appropriated  Snakebug's  blanket;  how  Snakebug  re- 
covered his  property  in  his  friend's  absence,  and  accidentally 
bore  off  Moonshine's  boots,  thereby  "  getting  the  dead-wood 
on  Moonshine;" — and  then  Hagan  shakes  all  over  with  merri- 
ment, the  general  laughs,  Sweeny's  banjo  roars,  a  negro  dances 
a  breakdown,  amid  shouts  of  applause,  and  the  cavalry  head- 
quarters are  in  a  state  of  perfect  enjoyment. 

There  too  was  Pelham,  now  Stuart's  chief  of  artillery ;  and 
Farley,  the  celebrated  partisan  of  South  Carolina,  one  of  his  aides. 

Stuart!  Pelham!  Farley!  How  many  memories  do  these 
words  recall !  As  I  murmur  them  I  seem  to  hear  again  the  ac- 
cents of  the  noble  voices ;  to  press  the  friendly  hands — to  greet 
the  dear  dead  comrades  sleeping  their  last  sleep ! 

Pelham,  the  brave,  the  true,  the  kindly,  gentle  spirit — I  never 
knew  a  human  being  of  more  stubborn  nerve,  or  shrinking  mod- 
esty, nis  blue  eye  never  fell  before  the  stare  of  peril,  but  often 
when  you  spoke  to  him.  His  color  never  faded  in  the  hottest 
hours  of  the  most  desperate  fighting ;  but  a  word  would  often 
confuse  him,  and  make  him  blush  like  a  girl.  A  native  of  the 
great  State  of  Alabama,  he  had  the  warm  blood  of  the  South  in 
his  young  veins ;  but  I  think  he  had  come  to  love  Virginia  and 
the  faces  here  with  a  love  as  warm  as  that  of  her  own  children. 
Virginia  certainly  loved  him,  her  boy  defender ;  but  it  was  im- 
possible to  know  him  and  not  love  him.  In  that  light  blue  eye 
was  the  soul  of  truth  and  chivalry.  The  smooth,  boyish  face 
was  the  veritable  mirror  of  high  breeding,  delicacy,  and  honor. 


378  SURRY    OF    EAGLE'S-NEST. 

I  never  knew  a  comrade  more  attractive — with  a  more  delight- 
ful gayety,  naturalness,  and  abandon.  Quick  to  resent  an  insult, 
or  to  meet  defiance  with  defiance,  he  was  never  irritable,  and 
hid  the  sweetness  and  good-humor  of  a  child — suspecting  noth- 
ing, and  fearing  no  offence.  Ilis  modesty  did  not  change  after 
Fredericksburg,  and  when  the  whole  army  rang  with  that  mag- 
nificent compliment  paid  to  the  boy  by  the  commander-in-chief, 
in  calling  him  "  the  gallant  Pelham."  His  spirit  was  too  proud 
and  noble  to  be  touched  by  arrogance.  He  was  still  the  modest, 
simple,  laughing  boy — with  his  charming  gayety,  his  caressing 
voice,  and  his  sunny  smile.  On  the  slightest  provocation,  the 
smooth  cheeks  were  covered  with  the  blush  of  diffidence.  He 
never  spoke  of  his  own  achievements  ;  and  you  would  not  have 
known,  had  you  been  with  him  for  a  whole  month,  that  he  had 
ever  taken  part  in  a  single  action.  In  Maryland,  an  old  farmer 
looked  at  his  beardless  face,  his  girlish  smile,  his  slender  figure, 
and  said  to  General  Stuart,  "  Can  these  toys  fight  ?" 

And  yet  this  "boy,"  so  young  in  years,  was  old  in  toils,  in 
marches,  in  hard  combats,  and  desperate  encounters.  That  light, 
blue  eye  had  looked  unmoved  upon  the  bloody  scenes  of  the 
first  Manassas,  Williamsburg,  Cold  Harbor,  the  second  Manassas, 
Sharpsburg,  Fredericksburg,  and  those  stubborn  fights  in  which 
Stuart's  cavalry — unknown  almost  to  the  infantry — were  con- 
stantly engaged.  This  boy  had  fought  his  guns,  at  both  battles 
of  Manassas,  till  the  enemy  were  at  their  very  muzzles  ;  had  held 
his  ground  with  one  Napoleon,  at  Cold  Harbor,  against  the  hur-  . 
ricane  of  shot  and  shell  poured  on  him  from  the  batteries  near 
McGee's  house ;  had  commanded  all  the  artillery  on  the  left  at 
Sharpsburg ;  held  the  ford  at  Shepherdstown,  driving  back, 
hour  after  hour,  the  heavy  masses  of  the  enemy  ;  and  at  Freder- 
icksburg had  fought  with  that  stubborn  persistence,  that  uncon- 
querable nerve,  which  made  the  silent  and  unexcitable  com- 
mander-in-chief exclaim  : 

"  It  is  glorious  to  see  such  courage  in  one  so  young !" 
Such   was    his    record — such    the    career    of    this    shrinking 
youth,  who  blushed  when  you  spoke  to  him.     Stuart  loved  him 
like  a  brother,  and  after  his  death,  when  I  was  speaking  one  day 


"CAMP    NO-CAMP."  379 

of  him,  the  tears  came  to  the  eyes  of  the  great  cavalier,  and  he 
turned  away,  unable  to  utter  a  word.  He  is  dead  now ;  his  voice 
will  never  more  be  heard — his  laugh  never  sound  again.  He  was 
nothing  to  you,  it  may  be,  good  reader — you  never  heard  of  him, 
perhaps ;  or  his  name  was  only  that  of  a  brave  boy  who  fought 
his  guns  with  dauntless  courage  upon  many  bloody  battle-fields. 
To  me  he  was  more.  It  was  a  friend  of  my  heart  that  passed 
away  when  Pelham  fell — a  comrade  whom  I  loved,  and  who 
loved  me.  When  he  passed  from  earth,  amid  that  thunder  of 
artillery  which  he  loved,  the  world  somehow  seemed  drearier, 
and  the  sunshine  not  so  bright.  The  song  of  the  birds  was  mu- 
sical no  more ;  the  glory  of  existence  seemed  to  fade  ;  Pelham 
was  dead,  and  there  was  no  one  left  to  take  his  place ! 

Observe  how  my  memory  leads  me  back  to  those  old  days,  and 
makes  me  linger  in  the  haunted  domain  of  the  past — reviving  the 
gallant  figures,  listening  again  to  the  brave  voices,  and  living 
once  more  in  the  bright  hours  that  are  dead ! 

But  what  is  left  to  us  poor  "  paroled  prisoners,"  except  mem- 
ory ?  Leave  us  that,  at  least,  as  we  look  upon  the  red  battle- 
flag,  drooping  from  its  staff,  after  so  many  splendid  victories ; 
leave  us  this  poor  consolation  of  recalling  the  grand  figures  and 
bright  hours  of  the  past ! 

Stuart,  Pelham — both  are  dead  now ;  and  Farley,  too,  has 
passed  away,  the  bravest  of  the  brave.  I  never  saw  his  face  be- 
fore the  war,  nor  until  the  spring  of  1862 ;  but  often  I  had  heard 
of  a  young  man  in  the  Army  of  the  Potomac  who  had  made  him- 
self famous  by  his  fearless  scouting,  his  cool  self-possession  in 
the  hottest  hours  of  battle,  and  his  long,  solitary  expeditions  into 
the  enemy's  lines.  I  figured  to  myself,  as  I  heard  of  his  strange 
adventures,  his  desperate  combats,  a  rough,  unpolished  partisan, 
with  the  instincts  of  a  tiger  and  the  manners  of  a  bear;  but 
when  I  came  to  know  him  upon  General  Stuart's  staff — here  is 
what  I  saw : 

A  young  man  of  twenty -five  or  six,  of  medium  height ;  athletic, 
but  graceful  figure ;  soft  dark  eyes,  low  musical  voice,  and  girlish 
gentleness — there  was  Farley.  He  wore  a  sort  of  surtout  of 
dark  cloth,  around  which  was  buckled  constantly  a  belt  contain- 


380  SUREY    OF    EAGLE'S-NEST. 

ing  his  pistol ;  handsome  cavalry  boots,  and  a  brown  hat  with 
a  black  feather.  Sometimes  he  donned  a  splendid  suit  of  Federal 
blue — shoulder-straps  and  all — captured  in  the  head-quarters  of 
General  Casey  at  "  Seven  Pines;"  but  this  was  only  by  way  of 
amusement.  His  horse,  his  arms,  his  boots,  his  saddle,  his  belt, 
his  gauntlets,  his  hat — all  were  captured.  He  lived  on  the 
enemy — despoiled  them  of  all  he  needed :  he  had  no  commission, 
drew  no  pay,  and  was  poor,  like  all  of  us;  but  he  wanted 
nothing.     The  enemy  supplied  him. 

When  he  needed  any  thing— a  horse,  a  pistol,  an  "  officer's 
McOlellan  saddle  " — or  when  the  repose  of  head-quarters  had 
become  tedious — he  set  out  by  himself,  or  with  a  small  detail  of 
men,  upon  a  private  raid.  Somewhere  beyond  the  Rappahan- 
nock he  was  sure  to  find  the  enemy ;  and  he  was  as  certain  to 
attack  them.  The  bang  of  revolvers,  the  clash  of  sabres,  the 
cheer  of  defiance — then  Farley  retired,  laughing  in  his  silent 
way,  with  his  horses,  arms,  and  saddles.  He  came  back  looking 
better  satisfied  ;  and  waited  for  the  next  occasion. 

But  I  am  lingering  too  long.  The  memory  of  this  brave  and 
gentle  cavalier  leads  me  back  to  those  old  days  when  I  knew 
him.  At  "  Camp  No-Camp  "  I  first  became  his  friend.  It  was 
impossible  to  imagine  any  one  with  a  sweeter  temper  or  a  more 
winning  address.  The  soft  dark  eyes  were  full  of  gentleness  and 
candor ;  the  smile  upon  the  lips,  shaded  with  a  black  mustache, 
was  charming ;  and  the  low,  measured  voice  like  music  to  the 
ear.  Often  we  wandered  over  the  great  fields  of  broom-straw 
sighing  in  the  winds  of  winter;  and  in  these  walks  Farley  told 
me  all  his  life.  It  was  a  brave,  true  heart  which  thus  unfolded 
itself  before  me ;  and  under  this  modest  exterior  were  the  finest 
traits  of  the  gentleman.  As  the  old  chivalric  poetry  came  some- 
times from  his  lips,  and  he  repeated — 

"  Gayly  bedight, 
A  gallant  knight 
Rode  on  through  sun  and  shadow  " —  • 

he  was  himself  the  ideal  of  that  gallant  cavalier.  Modest, 
kindly,  brave  as  steel,  and  devoted  to  the  South,  his  death  wa9 


STUART    AND    I    GO    TO    CULPEPPER.     381 

another  gap  in  the  lives  of  those  who  loved  him — a  loss  which 
nothing  can  supply. 

Do  I  weary  you,  kind  reader,  with  my  memories  of  Stuart, 
Pelham,  Farley,  and  those  days  long  gone  into  the  dust  ?  I  have 
done.  It  was  the  recollection  of  the  hours  I  spent  at  "Camp 
No-Camp,"  with  Stuart,  which  beguiled  me.  When  these  men 
passed  away,  with  all  their  smiles,  their  laughter,  their  gay 
voices  and  brave  faces,  something  like  a  shadow  seemed  to  fall 
upon  the  landscape.  I  mourn  them  yet ;  and  sometimes  think  a 
portion  of  my  heart  is  buried  with  them  yonder,  where  they 
sleep  in  peace — dead  on  the  field  of  honor. 


CVI. 

I   GO   WITH   STUART    TO   CULPEPPER. 

OifB  day  in  March,  when  I  visited  General  Stuart's  head- 
quarters, I  found  him  buckling  on  his  sabre  and  pistol.  The 
black  satchel,  in  which  he  carried  official  papers,  was  already  on. 
His  face  was  serious  and  earnest. 

"My  dear  General,"  I  said,  "I  am  such  a  good  staff-officer 
that  I  not  only  never  ask  any  questions,  but  never  even  form  a 
desire  to  know  any  thing.  It  is  permitted,  I  hope,  however,  to 
make  a  simple  remark,  and  I  beg  leave  to  say  that  you  appear  to 
me  to  be  going  somewhere." 

"You  are  the  model  of  an  aide,"  was  Stuart's  reply,  "and 
such  virtue  ought  to  be  rewarded.  I  won't  tell  you  where  I  am 
going,  but,  if  you  are  willing,  I  will  take  you  with  me." 

"  That  is  a  fair  proposition." 

"  You  accept  ?" 

"Certainly — but  there  is  my  General,  who  must  be  consulted." 

Stuart  went  to  his  desk  and  wrote  a  line,  calling  for  a  courier 
as  he  did  so. 

The  courier  appeared  at  the  moment  when  the  General  finished. 

"Does  that  express  the  idea?"  asked  the  General. 


382  SURRY    OF   EAGLE'S-NEST. 

And  he  handed  me  the  paper.  It  was  addressed  to  General 
Jackson,  and  contained  only  these  words : 

"  My  dear  General  : 

"  Will  you  lend  me  Colonel  Surry  for  three  or  four  days  ? 

"  Your  friend, 

"J.  E.  B.  S." 

"  It  has  the  military  brevity  of  Veni,  vidi,  vici,  General." 
And  I  returned  the  paper,  which  was  intrusted  to  Moonshine, 
scout  and  courier,  for  delivery  to  General  Jackson.  In  half  an 
hour — for  our  head-quarters  were  now  within  a  mile  of  Stuart's, 
on  the  Massaponnax — Moonshine  returned  with  the  answer.  It 
was  indorsed  on  the  note,  and  in  these  words : 

"My  dear  General: 
"  Certainly. 

"  Your  friend, 

"T.  J.  J." 

"The  General  beats  me  in  brevity,"  was  Stuart's  comment; 
and  he  put  on  his  riding-cape. 

"  Which  route  are  we  going  ?"  I  asked. 

"  We  are  going  to  take  the  train." 

"  Ah  !  the  train  ! — you    say  the  train?" 

"  There,  you  have  asked  no  less  than  two  indiscreet  questions, 
Mr.  Model  Staff-Officer !" 

"But  your  staff,  doubtless,  know  your  route?" 

"  Not  a  bit,  Surry — they  stay  here." 

"  Ah  !     Then  you  make  a  stolen  march  ?" 

"  Come  and  see." 

And  we  mounted  and  set  out  for  Hamilton's  Crossing,  where 
— sending  back  my  horse  by  a  courier — I  took  the  cars  with 
Stuart. 

On  the  same  evening  we  had  travelled  by  Hanover  Junction, 
Gordonsville,  and  Orange,  to  Culpepper  Court-House. 

In  front  of  the  tavern,  upon  his  gray  mare  "  Nelly,"  we  found 


STUART    AND    I    GO    TO    CULPEPPER.     383 

General  Fitz  Lee — a  gallant  figure,  in  full  war-harness,  with 
flowing  beard  and  mustache,  laughing  face,  and  eyes  sparkling 
with  gayety  beneath  his  brown  hat  and  ebon  feather. 

Behind  him  was  Pelham,  quiet,  smiling,  wearing  his  little 
artillery-jacket,  with  red  collar,  and  seated  upon  a  huge  artillery- 
horse,  his  knees  drawn  up  by  the  short  stirrups. 

"  Well,  Fitz!  what  news?"  was  Stuart's  greeting,  as  he  shook 
hands  with  General  Lee. 

"  Just  heard  from  Randolph,*  who  is  on  picket  at  the  bridge. 
Averill  is  opposite  Kelly's  Ford. 

"What  force?" 

"  About  three  thousand." 

Stuart  leaned  over. 

"  What  effective  have  you  ?" 

"  About  eight  hundred,"  was  the  reply. 

"Good,"  said  Stuart,  "that  will  do." 

And  they  entered  the  tavern  together. 

I  had  shaken  hands  with  "  General  Fitz,"  and  was  talking 
with  Pelham,  who  had  been  in  Culpepper  for  several  days  on  a 
visit  of  inspection. 

The  "  Stuart  Horse  Artillery  "  had  grown  from  a  battery  to  a 
battalion,  with  such  officers  as  Breathed,  Henry,  McGregor,  and 
others — perfect  tigers  in  a  fight,  and  men  after  Stuart's  own 
heart. 

I  never  knew  Pelham  to  be  more  gay.  He  spoke  of  the  "jolly 
times  "  he  expected  to  have  in  the  coming  campaign,  and  seemed 
to  look  forward  to  the  storm  of  battle,  ready  to  burst  forth, 
with  all  the  ardor  of  a  lover  who  sees  the  approach  of  his 
mistress. 

His  blue  eyes  sparkled  ;  his  lips  were  wreathed  with  smiles  ; 
his  voice  was  gay ;  his  jest  and  laughter  incessant. 

"  Now  Stuart  has  come,  we'll  have  it!"  was  his  exclamation. 
"  There  never  was  another  man  like  Stuart,  Surry  !"t 

"Poor  boy!"  said  the  General  to  me  a  month  afterward, 
"  he  loved  me  very  much! "J 


*  Captain  of  the  '•  Blaok  Hon*.*  t  Hig  wordi.  J  Hlg  word*. 


384  SURRY    OF   EAGLE'S-NEST. 

CYII. 

THE    LAST    CHARGE    OF    PELHAM. 

At  dawn  we  were  aroused  by  the  intelligence  that  the  enemy 
were  crossing  the  Rappahannock  and  making  a  determineo 
attack  upon  the  small  force  posted  in  the  rifle-pits. 

Stuart  had  laid  down  without  taking  off  his  clothes  or  arms. 
He  was  speedily  in  the  saddle— General  Fitz  Lee  having  sent 
him  a  horse.  I  had  procured  one  from  Pelham,  and  we  were 
soon  riding  rapidly  in  the  direction  of  Kelly's  Ford. 

As  we  passed  Fleetwood  Hill,  where  the  great  battle  of  the 
9th  of  June  was  afterward  fought,  and  approached  Stevensburg, 
the  dark  column  of  Fitz  Lee  was  seen  moving  steadily  through 
the  gray  of  morning  in  the  direction  of  the  Rappahannock  ;  and, 
riding  on  to  the  head  of  the  column,  Stuart  joined  the  General. 

The  firing  from  the  river  in  front  was  now  rapid  and  con- 
tinuous. 

"  They  have  crossed,"  said  Stuart  anxiously.  "  Who  com- 
mands the  force  in  the  rifle-pits,  Fitz?" 

I  did  not  hear  the  answer.  I  only  heard  the  words  "  re- 
enforced  last  night." 

As  he  spoke,  the  firing  ceased,  as  if  by  magic. 

In  the  dim  light  I  could  see  Stuart  knit  his  brow. 

"  They  are  captured  as  sure  as  fate  !"  he  growled. 

The  words  were  soon  verified.  A  cavalry-man  galloped  up, 
and,  to  Stuart's  quick  demand  of  "What  news?"  replied  in  great 
excitement  : 

"The  enemy  are  across,  General— at  least  ten  thousand! 
The  men  in  the  rifle-pits  are  all  captured  !" 

"  Where  are  you  going?"  said  Stuart  gruffly. 

"  To  find  my  company,  General." 

"  Here  is  a  company  you  can  join." 

And  he  pointed  to  Fitz  Lee's  column,  in  which  the  straggling 
cavalry-man  reluctantly  took  his  place. 

"  Now,  Fitz,"  said  Stuart  coolly,   "  there  is  only  one  thing  to 


%WM 


M 


THE    LAST    CHARGE    OF    PELHAM.      385 

do — to  fight  tliem.      We'll  drive  right  at  Averill,  and  find  who  ia 
the  best  man." 

General  Fitz  Lee  received  this  suggestion  with  a  gay  laugh. 

''That's  what  I  am  going  to  do,"  was  his  reply. 

The  column  moved  on  steadily;  the  day  slowly  dawned;  and 
as  we  approached  Kelly's  Ford  we  came  upon  the  enemy,  drawn 
up  on  the  southern  bank  of  the  river,  not  less  than  three  thou- 
sand in  the  saddle. 

General  Fitz  Lee  immediately  made  his  dispositions  for  attack. 
I  say  General  Fitz  Lee,for  Stuart  had  notified  him  that  he  would  not 
assume  command  as  long  as  every  thing  went  on  to  his  satisfaction. 

As  the  sun  rose,  the  spectacle  presented  was  imposing. 
Ranged  in  long  lines,  face  to  face,  were  seen  the  opposing  lines  of 
cavalry,  drawn  up  for  the  charge;  and,  as  the  masses  moved  to 
their  allotted  positions,  the  heavy  tramp  of  hoofs,  with  the  occa- 
sional notes  of  the  bugle,  alone  broke  the  stillness. 

In  face  of  the  three  thousand  cavalry  of  Averill,  the  eight 
hundred  of  Fitz  Lee  presented  a  painfully  diminutive  appear- 
ance. The  array  of  force  against  the  Southerners  seemed  over- 
whelming— but  never  have  I  seen  troops  more  animated  and 
eager  for  the  fray.  The  eyes  of  the  men  sparkled ;  they  clutched 
the  sword-hilt  with  an  evident  intention  to  make  every  cut 
bring  dov,  n  its  man ;  and  when  Stuart  and  Fitz  Lee  appeared, 
riding  along  the  lines,  a  wild  burst  of  cheers  rose,  saying,  as 
plainly  as  any  language,  "  We  are  ready!     Give  the  word!" 

It  was  given.  Suddenly  the  ringing  bugles  sounded  the 
"Charge!"  and  Lee  and  Stuart,  with  drawn  sabres  whirling 
round  their  heads,  led  the  line  in  a  headlong  charge. 

In  a  moment  they  had  burst  upon  the  enemy,  drawn  up  be- 
hind a  ditch  and  heavy  stone  wall ;  the  carbines  were  cracking, 
and  the  bitter  struggle  began  in  all  its  fury. 

It  was  to  last  from  morn  to  night — from  the  rising  to  the  set- 
ting of  the  sun. 

I  cannot  describe  it  in  its  animated  details ;  some  other  hand 
must  chronicle  the  splendid  gallantry  of  the  little  band  of  Lee, 
fighting  nearly  four  to  one ;  and  tell,  too,  with  what  dash  and 
courage  Fitz  Lee  led  his  men. 
17 


386  SURRY    OF    EAGLE'S-NEST. 

"It  was  like  a  little  dog  jumping  at  the  throat  of  a  big  mastiff!" 
said  an  old  farmer  afterward,  in  describing  the  action;  and  all 
daylong  the  plucky  bull-dog,  small,  but  "game,"  made  those 
leaps,  bringing  blood  from  his  huge  adversary's  throat. 

As  the  hours  wore  on,  the  struggle  became  desperate.  From 
their  cover  behind  the  stone  walls  in  their  front,  the  ene- 
my poured  a  deadly  fire  into  the  Southern  horsemen  ;  but  the 
obstacle  was  hurled  down,  the  horses  driven  over  with  the  spur, 
and  the  battle  raged,  hour  after  hour,  with  varying  fortunes,  in 
every  portion  of  the  field. 

The  enemy's  great  numbers  told  at  last,  however.  They 
opened  with  their  artillery — massed  their  column  in  front  of  our 
left,  and,  throwing  all  their  weight  there,  turned  the  flank,  and 
forced  Fitz  Lee  back. 

He  retired,  fighting  obstinately  at  every  step,  the  enemy 
pressing  on  in  triumph.  But  they  could  not  throw  his  line  into 
disorder.  Instead  of  scattering,  the  horses,  who  had  been  more 
or  less  broken  into  detachments,  now  concentrated,  and,  showing 
thus  an  obstinate  and  determined  front,  Fitz  Lee  continued  to 
fall  back,  under  the  fire  both  of  carbines  and  artillery. 

All  at  once,  from  an  eminence  in  rear,  was  heard  the  thun- 
der of  Pelham's  guns ;  and  the  shells,  racing  over  the  heads  of 
the  cavalry,  burst  in  the  enemy's  line,  throwing  it  into  disorder, 
and  checking  its  advance.  Fitz  Lee  continued  to  retire,  until  he 
reached  a  body  of  woods,  on  the  summit  of  a  hill,  with  open 
land  in  front ;  and  here  he  massed  his  cavalry,  formed  line  of 
battle,  and  prepared  to  fight  to  the  last. 

The  sun  was  now  sinking,  and  the  great  orb,  balanced  like  a 
ball  of  fire  upon  the  woodland,  seemed  to  be  bathed  in  blood. 
Throughout  the  whole  day,  the  little  force  had  virtually  held  its 
ground ;  and  now,  seeing  that  Averill  continued  to  advance,  Fitz 
Lee  determined  to  attack  him. 

In  our  front  was  a  great  field  intersected  by  fences ;  but  these 
were  of  wood,  and  could  be  torn  down.  On  the  high  ground 
beyond  was  the  Federal  artillery.  As  far  as  the  eye  could 
reach,  extended  the  dark  masses  of  the  Federal  cavalry,  motion- 
less in  line  of  battle. 


THE    LAST    CHARGE    OF    PELHAM.      387 

Our  bugles  sounded  the  charge,  and  slowly  the  Southern  line 
advanced — then  it  broke  into  a  trot — then,  at  a  wild  gallop. 
and  with  defiant  cheers,  it  burst  upon  the  enemy. 

From  that  moment  the  action  became  mad  and  desperate. 
The  men  discarded  the  pistol  and  carbine,  and  had  recourse  to 
the  sabre.  In  an  instant  they  had  torn  wide  gaps  in  the  fences, 
swept  through,  and  were  fighting  hand  to  hand. 

Fitz  Lee  and  Stuart  were  in  front,  fighting  like  private  sol- 
diers. Their  presence  gave  new  vigor  to  the  men,  and  a  better 
fight  was  not  made  in  the  war. 

Stuart  was  leading  on  the  men  when  Pelham  galloped  up  and 
made  some  report  in  relation  to  his  artillery.  I  understood  in 
an  instant  what  had  brought  him — he  could  not  stay  in  the  rear 
with  his  guns :  he  burned  to  be  in  the  charge. 

As  he  turned  away,  a  regiment  swept  by,  right  down  upon 
the  enemy,  and  Pelham's  sabre  flashed  from  its  scabbard. 

At  that  moment  his  appearance  was  superb.  His  cheeks  were 
burning;  his  blue  eyes  darted  lightnings ;  from  his  lips,  wreathed 
with  a  smile  of  joy,  rang  "Forward!"  as  he  cheered  on  the 
men. 

For  an  instant  he  was  standing  erect  in  his  stirrups,  his  sabre 
flashing  in  his  grasp ;  for  a  moment  his  proud  voice  rang  like  a 
clarion  which  sounds  the  charge — then  I  saw  him  hurled  from 
the  saddle,  under  the  trampling  hoofs  of  the  horses. 

With  a  single  bound  of  my  horse  I  reached  him.  He  lay  with 
his  smiling  face  turned  upward,  his  eyes  closed. 

A  shell  had  burst  above  him ;  a  fragment  struck  him  upon 
the  head — lie  was  gone! 

Gone  at  the  moment  when,  before  the  headlong  charge  of 
Lee,  the  men  of  Averill  gave  way ;  gone  at  that  supreme  instant 
when  the  long,  hard  day  was  won,  and  the  baffled  enemy  were 
hastily  retiring  across  the  Rappahannock!  That  spectacle  was 
denied  the  heroic  boy — but  he  died  the  death  he  wished — and  is 
yonder,  where  the  brave  and  true  and  faithful  are  rewarded ! 

At  night  the  enemy  were  retiring,  "badly  hurt,"  as  Stuart 
telegraphed.  He  added :  "  We  are  after  him.  His  dead  men 
and  horses  strew  the  roads." 


388  SURRY    OF    EAGLE'S-NEST. 

Before  morning,  Averill,  with  his  three  thousand  horsemen, 
thus  defeated  by  the  eight  hundred  men  of  Lee,  was  rapidly  re- 
treating beyond  the  Rappahannock:  a  complete  victory  had 
crowned  the  Southern  arms. 

But  the  death  of  a  boy  more  than  balanced  this  supreme  suc- 
cess. At  midnight  Pelham's  lips  had  uttered  their  last  sigh. 
His  noble  spirit  was  beyond  the  stars — 

"  Malice  domestic,  foreign  levy,  nothing 
Could  touch  him  further  I" 


CVIII. 

THE  SPRING  FLOWERS  OF  INCOGNITA. 

Suoh  was  the  hard  battle  of  Kelly's  Ford,  and  such  the  death 
of  Pelham. 

The  body  of  the  young  artillerist  was  carried  back  to  Cul- 
pepper Oourt-House,  and  laid  in  its  shroud,  amid  the  sobs  of 
women  and  the  tears  of  bearded  men.  That  cold,  pale  face  was 
all  that  was  left  of  one  who  had  lived  and  died  for  Virginia  and 
the  South. 

I  was  looking  at  the  pallid  face,  upon  which  a  smile  lingered, 
as  if  death  had  come  to  him  a  welcome  guest,  when  a  suppressed 
60und  behind  me  attracted  my  attention,  and,  turning  round,  I 
saw  Stuart  standing  near,  gazing,  with  eyes  full  of  tears,  upon 
the  dead  boy's  face. 

With  a  measured  step,  his  black-plumed  hat  in  his  hand,  he 
approached  the  body ;  looked  long  and  silently  upon  the  smiling 
face ;  then,  stooping  down,  he  pressed  his  bearded  lip  to  the 
marble  brow. 

As  he  did  so,  the  breast  of  the  great  cavalier  was  shaken ;  a 
sob  iss«d  from  his  lips,  and  a  tear  fell  on  the  pale  cheek  of  Pel- 
ham.  Severing  from  his  forehead  a  lock  of  the  light  hair — as 
the  boy  had  severed  one  from  the  head  of  poor  Jean — he  turned 


THE    SPRING    FLOWERS.  389 

away ;  and  as  he  did  so  I  heard,  in  low,  deep  tones,  which  seemed 
to  force  their  way  through  tears,  the  single  word — 

"Farewell!" 

It  was  Stuart's  last  greeting,  on  this  earth,  to  the  spirit  of  Pel- 
ham — soon  to  meet  his  own  again  where  the  roar  of  battle  never 
comes. 

On  the  day  succeeding  the  battle,  Stuart  sent  this  dispatch  to 
Richmond : 

"The  noble,  the  chivalric,  the  gallant  Pelham  is  no  more. 
He  was  killed  in  action  yesterday.  His  remains  will  be  sent  to 
you  to-day.  How  much  he  was  beloved,  appreciated,  and  ad- 
mired, let  the  tears  of  agony  we  have  shed,  and  the  gloom  of 
mourning  throughout  my  command,  bear  witness.  His  loss  is 
irreparable."  * 

"He  fell,  mortally  wounded,"  wrote  Stuart  afterward,  in  a 
general  order,  "  with  the  battle-cry  on  his  lips,  and  the  light  of 
victory  beaming  from  his  eye. 

"  His  eye  had  glanced  over  every  battle-field  of  this  army 
from  the  first  Manassas  to  the  moment  of  his  death,  and  he  was, 
with  a  single  exception,  a  brilliant  actor  in  all. 

"  The  memory  of  'the  gallant  Pelham' — his  many  virtues,  his 
noble  nature,  and  purity  of  character — is  enshrined  as  a  sacred 
legacy  in  the  hearts  of  all  who  knew  him. 

"His  record  has  been  bright  and  spotless — his  career  brilliant 
and  successful. 

"  He  fell,  the  noblest  of  sacrifices,  on  the  altar  of  his  country  !" 

Such  was  the  wreath  of  fadeless  laurel  laid  by  Stuart  on  the 
grave  of  Pelham — the  young,  the  noble,  the  immortal !  His  life 
had  passed  like  a  dream  of  glory — and  Stuart  wept  beside  his 
tomb !  Nor  was  that  all.  Tears  were  shed  for  the  dead  boy 
which  the  world  did  not  see — there  were  sighs  breathed,  far 
away,  which  the  world  did  not  hear!  I  heard  one,  as  it  passed 
on  the  winds  of  spring,  from  the  orange  groves  of  the  South — 
and  the  reader  shall  hear  it  too. 

Some  months  after  the  death  of  my  dear,  good  friend,  I  wrot* 

*  To  Mr.  Curry,  M.  C,  from  AlaUm*. 


390  SURRY    OF    EAGLE'S-NEST. 

and  published,  in  a  Southern  journal,  a  paper  upon  his  character 
and  career.  It  was  nothing — a  mere  sketch — the  hasty  lament 
of  one  comrade  for  another,  as  he  passes  on.  My  name  was  not 
printed  with  the  sketch — and  yet  the  authorship  was  in  some 
manner  discovered.  In  the  spring  of  1864,  I  received  a  note, 
in  the  delicate  handwriting  of  a  young  lady,  from  Georgia,  and 
this  note  contained  a  small  bunch  of  flowers — heartsease,  violet, 
and  jessamine — tied  up  with  a  tress  of  hair. 

The  note  lies  before  me,  with  its  faded  flowers — here  it  is  : 

"  For  the  sake  of  one  who  fell  at  Kelly's  Ford,  March  17th, 
'63,  an  unknown  Georgian  sends  you  a  simple  cluster  of  young 
spring  flowers.  You  loved  the  'gallant  Pelham,'  and  your 
words  of  love  and  sympathy  are  '  immortelles '  in  the  hearts  that 
loved  him.  I  have  never  met  you,  I  may  never  meet  you,  but 
you  have  a  true  friend  in  me.  I  know  that  sad  hearts  mourn 
him  in  Virginia,  and  a  darkened  home  in  Alabama  tells  the  sor- 
row there.  My  friendship  for  him  was  pure  as  a  sister's  love,  or 
a  spirit's.     I  had  never  heard  his  voice. 

"  Your  name  is  ever  in  my  prayers !     God  bless  you ! 

"  N'lMPOETB." 

Such  was  the  note  of  an  unknown  Georgia  girl,  which  accom- 
panied the  flowers  bound  up  with  her  hair.  Does  any  one  laugh, 
and  mutter  "  romance!"  "extravagance"?  I  salute  and  honor 
her  who  wrote  those  words — they  are  the  true  "immortelles" 
on  the  grave  of  Pelham.  I  have  "never  met  her,  I  may  never 
meet  her,"  but  it  is  something  for  a  poor  soldier  to  have  the 
prayers  of  a  pure  heart  ascend  for  him!  Not  in  vain,  it  may  be, 
O  fair  Incognita!  have  those  prayers  been  breathed  for  the  un- 
known Virginian  who,  again  to-day,  in  the  hours  of  a  sad  peace, 
as  yonder,  amid  the  thunder  on  the  Rapidan,  reads  your  words 
of  friendship,  in  their  delicate  tracery,  and  presses  your  flowers 
and  your  hair  to  his  lips.  The  soul  that  you  loved  is  gone  from 
earth — never  more  in  any  future  wars  will  his  blue  eye  flash  or 
his  clear  voice  ring ;  but  it  is  something,  if  yonder,  where  his  spirit 
hovers,  he  can  know  that  his  memory  is  immortal  in  your  heart. 


THE    ADVERSARIES.  391 

Do  not  weep  for  him — it  is  we  that  remain  "in  the  land  where 
we  were  dreaming  "  who  deserve  your  regret.  Shed  no  tears 
for  Pelham !  His  death  was  noble,  as  his  life  was  beautiful  and 
beneficent.  Fame  crowned  his  boyish  brow  with  that  amaran- 
thine wreath,  the  words  of  our  great  chieftain  Lee;  and  he  died, 
as  he  lived,  amid  hearts  who  loved  him  as  the  pearl  of  chivalry 
and  honor.  The  "  gallant  Pelham  "  cannot  pass  from  the  heart 
or  the  memory  of  the  people  of  the  South — but  there  is  some- 
thing which  his  brave  spirit  would  be  touched  and  thrilled  by 
more  than  all  those  laurels  which  enrich  his  tomb. 

It  is  the  tears  of  Stuart,  as  he  murmured,  "Poor  boyl  he 
loved  me  very  much!"  and  the  prayers  of  this  "unknown 
Georgian,"  who  had  "never  heard  his  voice!"* 


CIX. 

THE    ADVERSARIES. 

The  advance  of  Averill  was  the  prelude  of  the  coming  cam- 
paign. 

General  Hooker,  known  as  "Fighting  Joe  Hooker,"  had 
superseded  General  Burnside  in  command  of  the  Federal  army, 
and  every  tiling  pointed  to  a  determined  and  vigorous  renewal  of 
hostilities  at  the  earliest  moment  which  the  season  permitted. 

What  was  the  comparative  strength  of  the  opposing  columns 
facing  each  other  on  the  shores  of  the  Rappahannock  in  the 
month  of  April  ?  Here  are  the  facts — I  place  them  upon  record 
for  the  historian  : 

The  Federal  army,  according  to  the  printed  statement  subse- 
quently of  Major-General  Peck,  U.  S.  A.,  numbered  one  hundred 


*  Colonel  Surry  showed  mo  the  note  of  the  young  lady  here  referred  to.  The 
writing  is  very  delicate,  and  the  flowers  tied  with  a  tress  of  auburn  hair.  Ho  said 
that  this  little  incident  had  sensibly  touched  him,  and  that  ho  would  have  acknowl- 
edged the  receipt  of  the  note  if  the  young  lady  had  given  him  her  name.  As  it  wa§, 
he  feared  she  would  think  him  very  cold.  Some  day,  however,  they  might  incut, 
»nd  ihe  would  diacovor  her  mistake. 


392  SURRY    OF    BAGLE'S-NEST. 

and  fifty-nine  thousand  three  hundred  men.  General  Lee's  force 
did  not  quite  reach  thirty-five  thousand.  The  bulk  of  Long- 
atreet's  corps  had  been  sent  to  Suffolk,  on  the  south  side  of 
James  River,  for  subsistence.  All  that  was  left  was  Jackson's 
corps,  and  about  ten  thousand  troops  from  Longstreet's. 

When  the  April  sun  began  to  dry  the  roads  and  render  the 
movement  of  trains  and  artillery  practicable,  General  Hooker 
confronted  General  Lee  at  Fredericksburg,  with  a  force  more 
than  four  times  greater  than  that  of  his  adversary. 

Such  were  the  conditions  under  which  the  great  collision,  in 
the  first  days  of  May,  was  about  to  take  place.  The  enormous 
disproportion  between  the  opposing  forces,  you  may  possibly 
declare,  good  reader,  must  be  established  by  something  better 
than  the  statement  of  an  obscure  officer  of  the  0.  S.  Army.  Be 
it  so.  Let  my  words  go  only  for  what  they  are  worth  now,  when 
the  theory  is  obstinately  and  persistently  urged  by  ten  thousand 
journals,  of  a  certain  class,  that  we  of  the  South  were  overcome, 
not  by  numbers,  but  by  superior  generalship  in  the  Federal  lead- 
ers— superior  fighting  in  the  Federal  troops.  The  day  will  come 
when  every  secret  will  be  brought  to  light ;  when  the  torch  of 
truth  shall  illuminate  every  hidden  recess  of  this  misty  epoch, 
and  defy  the  power  that  tries  to  extinguish  it.  "When  that  day 
comes,  the  South  will  have  full  justice  done  to  her;  her  victories 
over  enormous  odds  will  be  traced  to  their  true  origin — a  nerve 
and  courage  which  only  numbers  could  overwhelm.  Then  the 
world  will  understand  the  meaning  of  the  words — u  It  was  im- 
possible for  us  to  conquer — we  have  struggled  !" 


OX. 

THE    NIGHT-HAWKS    FLOWN. 

About  the  middle  of  April  I  was  sent  with  a  confidential 
message  to  General  Stuart,  who  had  broken  up  his>  head-quarters 
at  "  Camp  No-Camp,"  and  transferred  them  to  the  neighborhood 
of  Culpepper  Court-House. 


THE    NIGHT-HAWKS    FLOWN.  393 

This  mission  was  far  from  unwelcome  to  me  ;  for  the  brilliant 
sun  of  April,  after  the  dreary  days  of  winter,  had  the  effect  of 
the  bugle-note  that  sounds  to  horse.  The  wooing  airs  invited  to 
active  movement  and  adventure ;  and,  strapping  behind  the 
saddle  my  single  blanket,  in  its  oil-cloth,  I  set  out,  gay  and  joy- 
ous, for  Culpepper,  taking  the  road  by  Chancellorsville  and  Ely's 
Ford  on  the  Rapidan. 

Do  you  think  the  words  "  gay  and  joyous  "  rather  curious  as 
applied  \o  a  discarded  lover  ?  Was  it  natural  that  the  personage 
who  had  Mdden  a  long  farewell  to  the  only  woman  he  had  ever 
loved,  and  never  expected  to  look  upon  her  face  again — was  it 
natural  that  this  unhappy  personage  should  be  "  gay  and  joyous  " 
under  any  provocation,  and  not  pass  his  whole  existence  tearing 
his  hair  and  exhibiting  other  evidences  of  the  gloom  which 
wrapped  his  soul  ?  Alas  !  human  nature  is  a  poor  affair  after  all, 
I  think  1  Men  will  not  sigh  always — broken  hearts  mend  slowly ; 
or,  rather,  should  we  not  say  that  hope  never  completely  deserts 
as?  Was  it  the  April  sunshine,  the  grass  starred  over  with  the 
first  pale  flowers — what  was  it,  that  said,  "Do  not  despond — it 
is  better  to  laugh  than  be  sighing!" 

In  this  gay  and  philosophic  mood  I  set  out  on  my  journey, 
and,  following  the  Mine  road  by  Tabernacle  Church,  struck  into 
the  main  highway,  and  reached  Chancellorsville.  Scarcely 
glancing  at  this  old  brick  edifice  which  had  then  never  been 
heard  of  out  of  the  immediate  vicinity,  I  turned  to  the  right 
toward  Ely's  Ford  and  soon  found  myself  in  that  country  of 
dense  thickets — the  famous  Wilderness — in  whose  depths  stood 
the  lonely  house  I  knew  so  well. 

As  I  rode  on,  the  bearing  of  the  country  told  me  that  I  could 
not  be  far  from  this  house ;  and,  yielding  to  a  caprice  which  I 
could  not  resist,  I  turned  my  horse's  head  in  the  supposed  di- 
rection of  the  place,  and,  after  half  an  hour's  ride  through  narrow 
bridle-paths,  came  upon  the  spot. 

Leaping  the  low  brush-fence,  and  ascending  the  knoll  upon 
which  the  house  stood,  I  checked  my  horse  before  the  door,  and 
hallooed.     No  reply  came,  and,  dismounting,  I  opened  the  badly- 
secured  door,  and  entered. 
17* 


394:  SURRY    OF    E  AGLE'S-NEST. 

The  place  was  deserted.  There  was  no  trace  of  a  human 
being ;  but  all  at  once  a  sound  from  beneath  my  feet,  as  it  were, 
attracted  my  attention,  and  I  saw,  protruding  from  a  flight  of 
eteps  which  led  into  a  cavernous  region  beneath,  the  head  of  an 
old  black  hag,  with  blear  eyes,  gray  hair,  twisted  into  kinks,  and 
toothless  mouth,  from  which  issued  a  sort  of  growl. 

The  growl  demanded  what  I  wanted,  and,  when  I  asked  if  any 
one  but  herself  was  at  home,  another  growl  conveyed  the  infor- 
mation that  no  one  but  herself  lived  there. 

"Where  is  Mrs.  Parkins?" 

"  Gone  this  long  time,"  from  the  hag. 

"And  Mr.  Fenwick?" 

"  Dead." 

These  words  terminated  the  interview,  for  the  head  of  the  old 
hag  disappeared ;  and,  having  nothing  further  to  detain  me,  I 
issued  forth  and  remounted  my  horse. 

So  these  night-hawks  had  disappeared — dead  or  gone  to  other 
regions.  Like  some  poisonous  exhalation,  they  had  vanished 
before  the  gay  sunshine,  which  poured  upon  me  now  as  I  con- 
tinued my  way  toward  the  Rapidan. 

Crossing  at  Ely's  Ford,  I  pushed  on  by  Stevensburg,  and  in  the 
afternoon  reached  General  Stuart's  head-quarters,  near  Culpepper 
Court-House. 


CXI. 

HOURS   AT   "CAMP   PELHAM." 

The  picturesque  head-quarters  of  General  Stuart  are  before 
my  eyes  as  I  write  these  lines. 

They  were  situated  upon  a  wooded  slope  west  of  the  little 
tillage,  and  great  trees  extended  their  arms  above.  Under  a 
"fly" — that  is  to  say,  the  canvas  cover  of  a  tent — were  the 
General's  desk,  chair,  and  couch  spread  on  the  ground.  In  a 
clump  of  pines  near  by  the  couriers  had  pitched  their  tents  cfabri. 
Beyond  were  the  horses,  picketed  among  the  trees.  In  front  of 
the  head-quarters,  on  the  grassy  knoll,  beneath  the  great  trees, 


HOURS    AT    "CAMP    PELHAM."         395 

the  blood-red  flag  of  Stuart  flickered  like  a  dazzling  flame  in  the 
April  sunshine — a  veritable  "giant  of  battle"  rose,  the  General's 
favorite  flower. 

Here  at  "  Camp  Pelhaui  " — for  so  Stuart  had  called  his  head- 
quarters— I  spent  two  or  three  days ;  and  I  now  recall  them  as 
among  the  most  pleasant  I  have  ever  passed.  The  smile  of  Pel- 
ham  and  the  glad  light  of  his  friendly  eyes  no  longer  shone  amid 
the  group ;  but  others  were  there — Farley,  with  his  low,  musical 
voice,  his  narratives  of  wild  adventure;  and  Channing  Price, 
that  brave  and  lovely  spirit,  with  his  frank,  young  face,  his 
charming  manner,  and  his  smile  like  sunshine — a  sunshine  which, 
alas !  was  soon  to  disappear,  as  the  voice  of  Farley  was  to  be 
silenced,  in  the  lurid  smoke,  amid  the  tragic  roar  of  the  fast- 
coming  conflict. 

Pardon  me,  reader,  if  I  linger  as  before  among  these  good 
companions — if  I  dwell  for  a  moment  on  the  days  spent  at 
"Camp  Pelham,"  as  at  "Camp  No-Camp."  As  I  go  back  to 
those  times,  again  the  blood-red  battle-flag  floats  proudly  in  the 
dazzling  sunshine — again  I  hear  the  ready  laughter,  or  the  sono- 
rous voice  of  Stuart,  as  he  sings  at  his  work — again  the  eyes  of 
Farley,  Price,  and  that  brave  spirit  Fontaine,  doomed  like  his 
comrades,  shine  upon  me  and  bring  back  the  hours  that  are 
gone! 

But  at  that  time  all  was  joy  and  merriment.  Our  old  friend 
Sweeny  played  his  banjo  gayly,  making  the  woods  of  Culpepper 
ring,  like  the  pine  thickets  of  Spottsylvania,  with  the  "  Old  Gray 
Hoss,"  and  "Sweet  Evelina,"  and  "Jine  the  Cavalry;"  Hagan 
went  and  came,  with  huge  hand  smoothing  down  his  mighty 
beard ;  and  more  than  once  came  bevies  of  fair  girls  from  the 
adjoining  village,  to  sit  beneath  the  trees,  and  laugh  with  the 
General,  while  the  ped  flag  rippled,  the  bugle  sounded  gayly  amid 
the  trees,  and  Sweeny's  banjo  filled  the  air  with  its  uproar. 

It  was  the  poetry  of  war — this  life  of  the  cavalry  on  the  out- 
post— the  romance  of  the  hard  career  of  arms.  I  have  forgotten 
many  hot  conflicts,  but  remember  still  those  gay  days  at  Camp 
Pelham,  in  the  spring  of  1863. 

Stuart  was  never  in  higher  spirits,  or  in  finer  trim  for  fighting, 


396  SURRY    OF    EAGLE'S-NEST. 

and  more  than  ever  I  admired  this  immense  war-machine,  this 
hair-trigger  organization,  ready  day  or  night  to  meet  the  enemy. 
It  was  all  the  same  to  him  whether  the  day  was  brilliant  or 
drenched  in  storms — he  was  what  the  Duke  of  Wellington  called 
a  "two  o'clock  in  the  morning  man,"  ready  at  any  moment,  and 
his  spirits  defied  the  atmosphere.  That  gayety  and  superb 
abandon  never  left  him — war  seemed  mirth,  and  he  delivered  his 
great  blows  with  laughter.  One  morning  during  my  visit,  a  re- 
port came  that  a  regiment  of  Federal  cavalry  had  crossed  near 
Kelly's  Ford,  and  Stuart  hastened  down  in  person.  As  he  ap- 
proached the  point,  an  officer  came  to  meet  him  at  a  gallop,  and 
announced  that  they  were  drawn  up  on  the  Southern  bank. 

"Well,"  was  his  answer,  with  a  laugh,  as  he  rode  on,  "tell 
Colonel  Beale  to  lick  into  'em,  and  jam  'em  right  over  the 
river!"* 

Did  you  ever  hear  of  a  more  unromantic  or  "  undignified  " 
order,  reader  ?  It  is  just  what  Stuart  said,  and  the  order  was 
obeyed — the  enemy  forced  to  hastily  recross. 

One  word  more  in  regard  to  this  great  cavalier.  There  were 
many  silly  persons  who  believed  him  frivolous,  because  he 
laughed  easily,  and  said  that  he  neglected  his  work  to  dance  and 
amuse  himself  with  young  ladies.  Most  stupid  and  unjust  of 
calumnies !  A  more  enormous  capacity  for  work,  a  more  sleep- 
less vigilance  than  Stuart's  cannot  be  imagined.  His  daily  toil 
was  incredible,  his  concentration  of  every  faculty  upon  the  task 
of  guarding  the  line  of  the  Rappahannock  unrelaxing.  Not  an 
avenue  of  approach  was  left  unguarded — scarce  a  picket  was  un- 
visited  by  him.     Day  and  night  he  was  ready. 

That  he  thought  profoundly,  and  saw  deep  into  the  future,  a 
single  opinion,  expressed  to  me  about  this  time,  will  show. 

"  The  next  battle  will  be  fought  near  Chancellorsville."t 

Such  was  the  far-seeing  prediction  of  a  man  who  was  thought 
by  many  to  be  frivolous.  His  daring  was  proverbial,  his  name 
illustrious ;  but,  besides  the  troops  who  fought  under  and  idolized 
him,  there  were  only  two  men  in  the  Southern  army  who  ap* 

*  His  words.  t  His  words. 


THE    SUMMONS.  397 

predated   him — regarding  him  as  a  born  master  of  the  art  of 
war. 
But  the  names  of  these  two  men  were  Lee  and  Jackson. 


CXII. 


THE    SUMMONS. 

Goixg  back  to  my  narrative,  from  which  the  recollection  of 
this  illustrious  figure  has  diverted  me,  I  proceed  to  record  an 
event  enforcing  very  powerfully  the  good  philosophy  of  hoping 
against  hope. 

I  was  about  to  get  into  the  saddle  and  set  out  on  my  return  to 
Fredericksburg,  when  Stuart,  who  had  bidden  me  good-by,  sud- 
denly said : 

"  By  the  by,  there  is  a  letter  for  you,  Surry."  And  he  looked 
among  the  papers  on  his  desk. 

"  A  letter,  General." 

"  Yes,  brought  last  night  by  one  of  my  scouts  from  over  the 
river.  Oh,  here  it  is! — and  in  the  most  delicate  female  hand- 
writing!" 

I  extended  my  hand,  recognized  May  Beverley's  writing  in  the 
address,  and  tore  open  the  letter. 

It  contained  not  a  syllable !  But  there  amid  the  scented  folds 
of  the  paper  was  a  flower  like  that  which  she  had  taken  from 
her  bosom  at  our  parting,  with  that  promise!  This  talisman 
meant  "  Come  !"  and  I  think  the  blood  must  have  rushed  to  my 
face  as  I  gazed  upon  it,  for  suddenly  I  heard  a  tremendous  burst 
of  laughter  from  the  General. 

"Good!"  was  his  exclamation,  when  he  could  catch  his 
breath;  "here's  our  sly  Surry  getting  letters  full  of  flowers 
from  young  ladies,  and  blushing  like  a  girl  to  boot!  Look, 
Farley!" 

And  I  found  myself  the  centre  of  laughing  faces,  all  enjoying 
my  confusion. 

"Pshaw!"  my  dear  General,  I  said,  as  I  put  the  letter  in  my 


398  SURRY  OF  EAGLE'S-NEST. 

pocket,  and  uttered  a  sort  of  laugh  winch  redoubled  the  mirth ; 
"  you  are  eternally  suspecting  something.  I  am  sure  you  have 
got  a  dozen  letters  like  this  in  your  desk  there." 

"Do  you  think  so  ?  But  they  never  made  me  blush  as  yours 
does  you!" 

"  That  arises  from  the  fact  that  I  rarely  receive  such ;  this  is 
merely  from— a  friend." 

"  Well !  as  my  scout  goes  back  to-morrow,  you  can  send  an 
acknowledgment  before  you  set  out  for  Fredericksburg,  to  your 
— friend." 

"  Thank  you,  General,  I  don't  propose  to  set  out  for  Fredericks- 
burg this  morning." 

"Indeed!" 

"  I  have  changed  my  mind.  Will  you  lend  me  a  courier  and  a 
slip  of  paper?" 

"  Certainly— what  for  ?" 

"I  am  going  to  telegraph  to  General  Jackson  for  two  or  three 
days'  leave  of  absence — to  make  a  scout  beyond  the  Rappahan- 
nock." 

At  this  statement  Stuart  threw  himself  upon  his  couch,  and 
uttered  a  laugh  which  threw  his  previous  performances  com- 
pletely in  the  shade. 

There  are  moments,  however,  when  it  is  difficult  to  tease  peo- 
ple :  when  a  man  is  radiant  with  happiness,  the  hardest  of  all 
tasks  is  to  annoy  or  irritate  him.  So,  having  sent  off  my  dis- 
patch to  the  Oourt-House,  whence  it  would  be  transmitted  to 
General  Jackson  by  telegraph,  I  submitted  myself  to  the  tender 
mercies  of  Stuart,  with  whom  teasing  was  a  passion. 

A  few  hours  afterward  I  received  from  General  Jackson  the 
leave  asked  for,  and,  on  the  same  evening,  set  out  for  The 
Oaks. 

Shall  I  add  another  illustration  of  the  fun-loving  propensities 
of  Stuart?  As  I  mounted  my  horse,  he  called  in  a  jovial  voice 
for  Sweeny;  that  worthy  at  once  appeared,  with  his  banjo 
under  his  arm ;  and,  as  I  rode  down  the  hill,  the  voice  of  the 
great  musician — under  the  prompting  of  Stuart — was  heard 
singing  to  the  banjo : 


THE    DEFIANCE.  399 

"  Sweet  Evelina,  dear  Evelina ! 
My  love  for  thee 
Ke'er  shall  grow  cold  P 

The  General's  laughter  rang  out — the  staff  joined  in,  and  then 
the  triumphant  banjo  began  an  uproarious  chorus,  above  which 
ro6e  the  words : 

"  If  you  get  there  before  I  do, 
Oh,  tell  her  I'm  a-coming  too  1" 

"Good-by,  Surry!"  came  in  the  jovial  and  sonorous  voice  of 
Stuart ;  "  success  to  you,  my  boy  !  and  long  may  you  wave !" 


CXIII 


THE    DEFIANCE. 


I  had  scarcely  ridden  half  a  mile  when  I  heard  a  voice  behind 
me,  and,  looking  back,  descried  Captain  Farley  coming  on  at  & 

gallop. 

He  soon  caught  up  with  me,  his  eyes  beaming,  his  white  teeth 
shining  under  his  delicate  mustache,  his  dark  plume  floating 
in  the  breeze  of  the  April  evening. 

"  I  couldn't  bear  the  idea  of  your  making  your  little  scout 
alone,"  he  said,  laughing,  in  his  subdued  way,  "  and,  if  I  don't  in- 
trude, I  will  go  with  you." 

"Delighted  to  have  you,  Farley,"  was  my  reply.  "I  hate  to 
ride  all  day  with  no  company  but  my  own  thoughts." 

"  Well,  then  I'll  go  with  you,  and  we  will  try  and  scare  up 
some  game  beyond  the  river." 

I  laughed,  and  said  : 

"  I  have  two  objections  to  that." 

"  What  are  they  ?"  he  asked  with  a  smile. 

"  In  the  first  place,  I  shall  be  glad  if  they  don't  scare  up  me ; 
and,  secondly,  my  present  scout  is  of  the  most  peaceful  character. 
To-day,  I  have  no  sort  of  enmity  toward  anybody,  not  even 
Yankees." 

Farley  laughed  the  low  laugh  of  the  scout. 


400  SURRY    OF    EAGLE'  S-NEST. 

"  I  understand  !"  he  said  ;  "  but  perhaps  we  will  come  across 
the  bluebirds  nevertheless,  and  bag  some." 

With  these  words  he  rode  on  by  my  side,  a  gallant  figure  in 
his  dark  surtout,  his  brace  of  pistols,  his  drooping  hat  with  its 
black  feather. 

"We  conversed  of  a  hundred  things,  wbich  do  not  concern 
this  narrative,  and  I  need  not  record  the  conversation.  It  was 
our  determination  to  cross  the  river  that  night  opposite  the  little 
village  of  Orleans ;  but,  unfortunately,  Farley's  horse  cast  a  shoe, 
and  began  to  limp  so  badly  that  it  was  absolutely  necessary  to 
seek  for  a  blacksmith. 

While  we  were  looking  out  for  some  friendly  citizen  to  direct 
us,  a  light  glimmered  in  front,  on  the  banks  of  the  river — for 
the  night  had  descended — and  suddenly  we  came  upon  a  cavalry 
camp,  and  were  halted  by  a  picket. 

"Whose  regiment?"  I  asked. 

"  Colonel  Mordaunt's,"  was  the  reply. 

"Good.    Where  are  the  Colonel's  quarters?" 

We  were  directed  to  a  tent  in  a  thicket  near ;  and,  stretched 
upon  his  cloak  beside  a  camp-fire,  we  found  Mordaunt.  Oppo- 
site lay  Achmed,  the  Moor,  wrapped  from  head  to  foot,  and 
sound  asleep. 

Mordaunt  greeted  us  with  military  hospitality,  and  he  and 
Farley  were  evidently  old  friends.  The  result  of  a  consultation 
on  the  subject  of  horse-shoes  was  rather  discouraging,  as  there 
was  no  shop  near,  and  we  finally  accepted  Mordaunt's  invitation 
to  spend  the  night.  One  of  his  men,  he  said,  should  have  the 
lame  horse  ready  shod  by  daylight. 

For  an  hour  we  talked  upon  indifferent  subjects.  Then, 
declaring  that  he  was  sleepy,  Farley  wrapped  himself  in  his 
blankets,  lay  down  by  the  fire,  and  his  long  breathing  soon  in- 
dicated that  he  was  asleep. 

Mordaunt  did  not  seem  inclined  to  follow  his  example.  He 
remained  stretched  upon  his  cloak,  his  head  resting  on  his  hand, 
and  gazed  thoughtfully  into  the  fire. 

As  he  thus  lay  at  full  length  before  me,  his  face  and  form  lit 
up  by  the  ruddy  flame,  he  was  the  picture  of  a  cavalry-man. 


THE    DEFIANCE.  401 

His  athletic  figure,  hardened  by  the  active  life  of  the  outpost, 
was  all  muscle ;  his  swarthy  cheek  bore  the  traces  of  sun  and 
wind  and  storm ;  his  dark  eyes  had  that  proud  and  penetrating 
expression  which  may  be  read  in  those  of  the  mountain  eagle. 
I  looked  with  a  species  of  curious  interest  upon  this  powerful 
physique,  this  broad  brow,  and  firm  lip  fringed  with  its  raven 
mustache ;  it  was  strength  in  repose,  there  before  me  in  the 
person  of  this  silent  man,  who  had  found  in  the  shock  of  battle 
apparently  the  solace  for  that  grievous  wound  inflicted  upon  his 
heart. 

But,  as  I  looked  more  attentively  at  my  silent  companion,  I 
thought  I  could  discern  the  traces  of  unwonted  emotion — sup- 
pressed by  that  iron  resolution  of  his,  but  not  so  completely  as 
to  be  wholly  undiscoverable  upon  his  swarthy  features.  There 
was  a  strange  light  in  the  dark,  proud  eye — a  slight  color  on 
the  cheek,  which  evidently  proceeded  from  some  hidden  emotion. 
Mordaunt  was  plainly  thinking  of  something  which  absorbed  him 
strangely. 

This  revery  at  last  became  so  profound  that  he  seemed  to  lose 
the  consciousness  even  of  my  presence — and,  muttering  some 
words  which  I  did  not  hear,  he  drew  from  his  bosom  a  paper, 
small  and  delicate,  such  as  women  write  upon,  and  read  it  atten- 
tively. As  he  did  so,  a  deep  flush  came  to  his  bronze  face — his 
eyes  flashed — then,  as  he  raised  his  head,  his  glance  met  mine, 
fixed  curiously  upon  him,  and  he  suddenly  seemed  to  realize  my 
presence.  The  paper  was  coolly  replaced  in  his  bosom ;  he  drew 
a  long  breath ;  the  color  faded  from  his  cheek — he  was  bronze 
again. 

At  the  same  moment  the  sound  of  hoofs  was  heard  on  the 
bank  of  the  river,  and  the  quick  "  Halt !"  of  the  picket. 

"  Friends!"  was  the  reply  ;  and,  as  Mordaunt  rose,  the  sounds 
drew  nearer,  and  then  ceased. 

The  rattle  of  a  sabre  indicated  that  some  one  was  dismount- 
ing ;  and  at  the  next  moment  the  figure  of  Harry  Saltoun  ap- 
peared in  the  circle  of  fire-light. 

The  young  man  advanced  with  measured  tread,  saluted  with 
cold  ceremony,  and  said  in  tones  of  freezing  formality  : 


402  SURRY    OF   EAGLE'S-NEST. 

"  I  have  come  to  make  my  report,  sir." 

"  Make  it,  sir,71  was  Mordaunt's  reply  in  a  voice  as  cold  and 
formal  as  that  of  the  young  Lieutenant. 

The  latter  then  proceeded,  in  the  same  voice  of  stiff  official 
coldness,  to  make  his  report. 

As  I  listened,  I  more  than  once  asked  myself  if  this  rigid 
military  automaton  with  the  repelling  manner,  the  measured  and 
gloomy  accents,  the  pale  face  and  set  lips  which  seemed  at  times 
to  suppress  with  difficulty  the  temptation  to  hreak  into  a  sneer — 
I  asked  myself  if  this  could  possibly  he  the  gay  and  joyous 
Harry  Saltoun,  so  full  of  life  and  buoyancy  and  laughter — this 
statue,  which  growled  in  speaking,  and  menaced  him  whom  it 
addressed,  with  those  lowering  eyes ! 

But  Mordaunt  exhibited  no  evidence  of  surprise,  and  listened 
in  grave  silence. 

When  the  report  was  finished,  he  said  simply  : 

"  It  is  well,  sir.  Return  with  your  company  to  the  regi- 
ment, and  send  your  prisoners  under  guard  to  corps  head-quar- 
ters." 

The  young  Lieutenant  made  a  stiff  salute,  but  did  not  move. 

"  1  believe  you  heard  my  order,"  added  Mordaunt  in  a  freezing 
tone. 

"  I  did,  sir,"  was  the  cold  reply,  "and  it  will  be  promptly 
obeyed.  I  only  solicit,  before  leaving  Colonel  Mordaunt,  his 
reply  to  a  single  question." 

"  Ask  it,"  returned  Mordaunt. 

"  When  will  he  accord  to  me  that  meeting  which  he  has 
promised  me  ?" 

The  words  were  uttered  without  a  change  in  the  accents  of 
the  young  man — it  is  impossible  to  imagine  any  thing  more  cold 
and  proud  than  his  address. 

To  my  extreme  astonishment,  Mordaunt  did  not  give  way  to 
the  least  displeasure  at  this  singular  demand.  I  expected  an 
outburst,  but  none  came. 

"  In  four  days  from  this  time,"  he  said,  "  I  will  give  you  an 
answer  to  that  question.  Be  content — what  is  deferred  is  not 
lost.     You  have  my  word,  sir." 


THE    DEFIANCE.  403 

The  young  man  saluted — retired  without  uttering  a  word — 
and  I  was  again  left  alone  with  Mordaunt. 

"  This  scene  appears  rather  extraordinary  to  you,  Surry, 
heyond  any  doubt,"  Mordaunt  now  said  to  me,  with  perfect 
coolness ;  "  but  I  am  a  perfect  Quixote  in  some  matters,  my  dear 
friend,  and  I  am  acting  like  the  Knight  of  La  Mancha  on  the 
present  occasion.  One  of  my  curious  fancies  is,  that  a  gentleman 
has  no  right  to  refuse  satisfaction  to  his  opponent  because  that 
opponent  is  beneath  him  in  rank.  On  such  occasions  the  ques- 
tion of  rank  disappears — it  is  gentleman  against  gentleman,  and 
this  boy  is  such." 

"  And  you  are  going  to  fight  Harry  Saltoun!"  I  exclaimed. 

"  Exactly,"  was  the  cool  reply  of  Mordaunt. 

"  On  what  quarrel,  in  the  name  of  heaven !" 

"  Eeaily,  I  can't  tell  you,  Surry,"  was  the  careless  answer,  "  I 
can  only  inform  you  how  it  came  about.  Do  you  care  to  listen  ? 
— it  will  not  detain  you  ten  minutes." 

"  Let  me  hear  all  about  it,  Mordaunt." 

"  Well,  our  young  friend  here,  Lieutenant  Saltoun,  has  some 
grievance  against  me  which  he  obstinately  refuses  to  divulge.  I 
observed  the  traces  of  bitter  hostility  in  his  manner  toward  me, 
for  the  first  time,  a  few  days  since.  In  making  a  report  to  me, 
his  bearing  was  so  offensive  that  I  called  his  attention  to  it,  and 
he  replied  in  a  manner  which  made  it  necessary  to  arrest  him. 
In  twenty-four  hours  I  sent  an  order  for  his  release,  believing 
that  some  momentary  fit  of  passion  had  betrayed  him  into  this 
grave  military  offence — but  no  sooner  had  he  been  relieved  from 
arrest  than  he  came  to  me  and  said,  with  the  eyes  of  a  wild 
animal  about  to  spring:  '  You  are  the  colonel  of  this  regiment, 
and  I  am  a  subordinate — but  you  are  a  gentleman  also,  and  I  am 
your  equal.  If  you  choose  to  arrest  and  punish  me  for  insubor- 
dination, do  so !  If  you  hold  yourself  accountable  to  me,  in 
spite  of  the  stars  upon  your  collar,  meet  me  and  give  me  the 
satisfaction  which  one  gentleman  owes  another  whom  he  has 
outraged.'  Those  were  the  exact  words,  Surry,"  continued 
Mordaunt  coolly,  "  and  you  can  understand  that  they  touched 
my  weak  point — probed  it  to  the  quick.     At  once  I  resolved  to 


404  SURRY    OF    EAGLE'S-NEST. 

meet  this  defiance  as  man  to  man— no  one  shall  insult  me  with 
impunity — but,  first,  it  seemed  to  me  only  reasonable  that  I 
should  ascertain  the  grounds  of  this  fancied  outrage.  Can  you 
conceive  that  my  young  Orlando  Furioso  positively  refusea  to 
tell  me  ?" 

"  And  you  are  going  to  engage  in  a  mortal  encounter  upon 
grounds  as  irrational  as  a  hot-blooded  young  man's  simple  invi- 
tation!" I  exclaimed. 

A  grim  smile  came  to  Mordaunt's  face. 

"  You  have  not  heard  all,"  he  said.  "  "What  I  have  told  you  is 
only  the  preface."  * 

"  Go  on — what  more  ?" 

"  The  most  entertaining  part  is  to  come.  When  my  young 
thunderbolt  informs  me  that  the  ground  of  his  dissatisfaction 
with  me  must  remain  undivulged,  I  reply,  'That  is  somewhat  ex- 
traordinary, Lieutenant  Saltoun :  you  are  determined  to  cut  my 
throat,  and  yet  you  refuse  to  afford  me  the  poor  satisfaction  of 
knowing  why  you  are  resolved  to  perform  that  operation.' 
"Whereupon  comes  his  reply,  as  hot  as  fire,  and  in  these  words : 
'  Do  you  call  yourself  a  gentleman  V  '  I  have  been  considered 
such,'  I  answer,  with  the  tiger  in  me  suddenly  becoming  deve- 
loped. 'I  ask,'  he  said,  coolly,  yes,  with  a  voice  as  steady  as  a 
rock,  Surry,  '  I  ask,  because  people  say  that  there  is  something 
in  your  history  which  won't  bear  investigation — a  mystery  which 
may  involve  an  infamy!'  Those  were  his  very  words,  my  dear 
Surry,"  said  Mordaunt,  with  a  flash  of  the  eye  which  boded  no 
good;  "and,  not  content  with  this,  he  uttered  the  name  of  a 
woman  whom  I  formerly  knew  !  "Well,  when  Lieutenant  Sal- 
toun did  me  the  honor  to  thus  allude  to  my  private  history — to 
suggest  that  positive  infamy  might  lie  perdu  beneath  the  mys- 
tery of  my  past  life,  and  to  pronounce  a  name  which  recalls  to 
me  only  bitter  recollections — the  words  which  he  uttered  ac- 
complished his  object  as  effectually  as  a  blow  could  have  done  it! 
I  went  up  to  him  where  he  was  standing — we  were  quite  alone- — 
and  said  to  him,  '  Lieutenant  Saltoun,  you  have  formed  a  tolerably 
just  estimate  of  your  man,  and  know  how  to  strike.  You  ehall 
answer  for  those  words  with  your  life.   But  don't  arouse  me  fur- 


MORDAUNT'S    MOTiyE.  405 

ther  now.  Go  and  cool  off",  sir,  and  then  come  back,  and  we  will 
arrange  the  terms  of  the  meeting  you  desire.'  He  bowed  when 
I  said  that,  and  went  away — and  the  meeting  to-night  is  the  first 
which  has  since  taken  place  between  us." 

I  could  find  no  words  of  comment  upon  this  most  unfortunate 
affair ;  and,  after  a  moment's  silence,  Mordaunt  added  : 

"  I  would  have  arranged  the  whole  affair  to-night — it  would 
require  a  few  moments  only — but  I  have  just  received  a  letter 
which  makes  my  absence  for  about  four  days  absolutely  neces- 
sary. I  have  thus  been  obliged  to  defer  this  meeting  with  our 
fiery  friend — on  my  return  he  shall  have  his  satisfaction." 


CXIY. 

MORDAUNT'S    MOTIYE. 

The  deep  voice  ceased,  and  I  remained  buried  in  reflection. 
"What  possible  origin  could  there  be  for  this  bitter  hatred  of 
Harry  Saltoun's  for  Mordaunt — the  man  he  loved  and  admired 
the  most  in  all  the  world  ?  I  remembered  that  declaration  of 
the  youth  in  the  preceding  autumn,  that  he  would  rather  have 
"  "Well  done,"  from  the  lips  of  Mordaunt,  than  another  grade — 
and  now  all  this  love  and  admiration  was  changed  into  hate  so 
bitter  that  blood  must  flow  to  satisfy  it ! 

All  at  once  the  thought  of  Violet  Grafton  came  to  my  mind, 
and,  turning  to  Mordaunt,  I  said  : 

"Have  you  visited  Elm  Cottage  recently?" 

"More  than  once  this  spring,"  was  his  reply;  "my  scouting 
expeditions  regularly  take  me  in  that  direction." 

"And  you  have  seen  Violet  Grafton?" 

"Certainly,"  returned  Mordaunt,  coolly;  "she  is  living  still 
with  her  friends  there." 

"And  Lieutenant  Saltoun  has  doubtless  called  too?" 

"  Yes,  I  was  assured  that  he  had  frequently  staid  with  them 
when  out  scouting." 


406  SURRY    OF   EAGLE'S-NEST. 

"  Then  the  whole  affair  is  plain,  Mordaunt,"  I  exclaimed,  "  and 
the  mystery  is  explained  at  once." 

"What  can  you  mean?" 

" I  mean,"  was  my  reply,  "that  Harry  Saltoun  is  in  love  with 
Miss  Grafton,  and  has  taken  up  the  fancy,  from  some  cause,  that 
you  have  injured  him  with  the  woman  whom  he  loves !" 

Mordaunt's  hrows  contracted,  and  for  some  moments  he  pre- 
served a  moody  silence,  gazing  steadily  into  the  fire. 

"That  is  a  curious  idea,"  he  muttered ;  "  strange  that  it  never 
occurred  to  me.     And  yet " — 

"Remember,  Mordaunt,  how  the  young  man  blushed  when 
speaking  of  the  young  lady  who  had  nursed  him  when  he  was 
wounded — remember  how  her  very  name  flushed  his  cheek ; 
then  think  of  these  regular  visits  which  he  has  since  paid  to  Elm 
Cottage  ;  lastly,  think  of  the  gossip  and  tittle-tattle  which  such 
affairs  occasion,  and  the  great  probability  that  you  have  been 
represented  to  him  as  his  rival." 

"  As  his  rival ! — I !"  said  Mordaunt ;  "  what  an  idea!  An  old 
bear  like  myself  the  rival  of  this  glittering  young  gallant!" 

And,  under  the  cool  accents  of  the  speaker,  I  thought  I  dis- 
cerned the  traces  of  bitter  irony  and  melancholy. 

"  You  are  right,  Surry,"  he  added,  in  a  calmer  tone ;  "  some- 
thing of  that  description  is  probably  mixed  up  with  the  affair. 
But  what  imaginable  grounds  for  such  a  supposition  can  my  con- 
duct have  afforded  ?" 

"Simply  that  you  are  Violet  Grafton's  friend.  That  is  enough 
in  the  eyes  of  the  old  women,  male  and  female,  to  make  you  her 
suitor." 

"  Yes,  they  are  a  plague — these  male  and  female  women ; 
they  thus  make  trouble,  and  will  not  understand  what  I  have 
done." 

"What  you  have  done?" 

"  Shall  I  tell  you,  Surry  ?     I  am  not  of  that  class  who  are  fond 
of  making  confidences — but  I  wish  to  retain  your  good  opinion, 
friend.     Well,  do  you  remember  my  meeting  with  Miss  Grafton 
at  Manassas?" 
"Certainly." 


MORDAUNT'S    MOTIVE.  407 

"  I  rode  with  her  that  night,  and  she  did  me  a  great  service. 
I  need  not  refer  to  this  point  further,  except  to  say  that  through 
her  instrumentality  I  gained  possession  of  a  packet  of  papers, 
more  valuable  to  me  than  all  the  wealth  of  two  hemispheres!" 

Mordaunt  paused,  his  face  flushed ;  then  he  went  on  as  calmly 
as  before : 

"  I  had  long  avoided  women,  having,  doubtless,  little  to  attract 
them,  but  it  was  impossible  to  converse  with  Miss  Grafton  with- 
out discovering  that  she  possessed  a  very  exquisite  character — a 
soul  all  goodness  and  sincerity.  My  cold  manner  did  not  seem  to 
repel  her — she  resolutely  refused  to  observe  my  bearishness,  and 
when  we  reached  Elm  Cottage  we  were  almost  friends.  Not  to 
weary  you  out,  however,  I  will  come  to  the  point  of  all  this  talk 
directly :  something  like  an  honest  friendship  sprang  up  between 
this  young  lady  and  myself;  and  during  the  autumn  of  the  year 
1861,  while  I  was  stationed  near  Fairfax,  I  visited  her  more  than 
once.  Tbe  consequence  of  further  acquaintance  was  a  stronger 
regard  for  her  than  ever;  and,  as  I  think  that  human  friendship 
should  be  'clothed  in  act,'  as  says  the  great  English  poet,  I 
sought  for  some  means  of  benefiting  Miss  Grafton.  She  was  an 
orphan,  without  a  permanent  home,  simply  the  guest  of  the  hos- 
pitable lady  of  Elm  Cottage  ;  and  I  thought  that  the  best  service 
I  could  do  her  was  to  throw  in  her  way  some  true-hearted  youth 
who  would  love  her,  and,  marrying  her,  give  her  a  home  and  that 
happiness  which  she  deserved." 

"I  understand  I"  I  said  ;  "you  found  the  opportunity  in  Au- 
gust last  year,  when  we  were  going  to  Manassas." 

"  Yes.  I  had  long  observed  young  Saltoun — known  him  in 
camp  and  seen  him  on  the  field — and  I  know  that  a  braver  and 
truer  boy  never  drew  sabre.  You  see  I  am  magnanimous,"  said 
Mordaunt  with  a  melancholy  curl  of  his  proud  lip  ;  "  I  praise  my 
rival  and  my  personal  enemy  !  Well,  this  is  no  less  true  of  him, 
if  he  does  intend  to  make  me  fight !  I  have  never  known  that 
boy  to  do  a  mean  action,  to  shrink  before  peril,  or  to  act  in  any 
manner  not  becoming  a  gentleman.  At  this  very  moment,  when 
I  think  he  hates  me  bitterly,  I  would  trust  him  with  my  life  ;  I 
would  sleep  by  his  side,  though  he  were  awake  with  a  poniard  in 


408  SURRY    OF    EAGLE'S-NEST. 

his  Land !  Well,  I  am  prosing.  I  knew  that  this  young  man 
was  the  son  of  a  rich  Marylander,  and  in  every  manner  calcu- 
lated to  make  Violet  Grafton  happy  as  her  husband.  He  was 
wounded  that  night,  could  go  no  further ;  then  I  conceived  the 
project  of  sending  him  to  be  nursed  by  Miss  Grafton  at  Elm  Cot- 
tage, and  gave  him  a  note  to  her,  commending  him  to  her  good 
keeping. 

"I  tell  you  this  to  clear  myself  of  all  reproach,  friend.  I  did 
it  from  a  good  motive — none  was  ever  better.  And  now  you  can 
understand  the  falsehood  and  malignity  in  representing  me  as 
young  Saltoun's  rival.  Nor  rival  only !  I  am  plotting  secretly 
against  him  with  Miss  Grafton ;  injuring  his  character ;  '  out- 
raging' him,  he  says,  and  my  blood  must  flow  for  it!" 

Mordaunt  ceased,  the  prey  apparently  of  bitter  and  conflicting 
emotions. 

"  My  life  is  an  unhappy  one,  Surry,"  he  added,  gazing  Into  the 
fire.  "  I  thought  that  upon  my  tombstone  might  have  been  at 
least  written,  with  the  applause  of  all,  '  He  lost  all  but  honor ' — 
yet,  it  seems,  that  this,  too,  is  to  be  denied  me.  I  am  to  be  re- 
garded as  a  hypocrite  and  base  traducer  of  the  youth  I  called 
my  friend !" 

There  was  something  so  proud  and  melancholy  in  the  accents 
of  the  speaker,  that  his  words  went  to  the  heart.  More  than 
ever  I  admired  the  great  wealth  of  magnanimity  and  sincerity 
which  lay  concealed  beneath  the  cold  exterior  of  this  man.  Did 
he  love  Violet  Grafton  all  that  time,  too  ?  It  was  more  than 
probable,  as  his  fits  of  moody  abstraction  during  the  progress  of 
his  narrative  seemed  to  indicate.  And  she — did  she  love  him 
yet  ?  Or  had  the  youthful  attractions  of  Harry  Saltoun  driven 
the  dark  eyes  of  Mordaunt  from  her  heart  ?  I  knew  not ;  but  I 
thought  I  saw  that  she  was  the  sole  oasis  in  the  desert  of  Mor- 
daunt's  life — the  sunshine  under  which  his  cold  and  arid  heart 
had  burst,  for  a  moment,  into  bloom,  soon  to  have  its  leaves 
strewn  to  the  winds  by  the  remorseless  hand  of  that  fatality 
which  seemed  to  make  his  life  unhappy,  and  thus  hold  him  to 
his  hard,  stern  work  with  the  sabre. 

"I  have  listened  to  your  explanation,  Mordaunt,"  I  now  said, 


MORDAUNT'S    MOTIVE.  409 

"and,  more  than  ever,  recognize  you  in  what  you  have  done.  It 
i*s  truly  a  monstrous  thing  that  this  boy  should  take  up  such  a 
fancy  as  he  seems  to  have  done,  and  force  you,  by  his  insults,  to 
meet  him  in  mortal  combat.  There  must  be  an  explanation  be- 
fore you  fight.  But  -what  was  that  other  insult  which  he  uttered 
— that  '  name  of  a  woman  ' — not  Miss  Grafton's — which  was  a 
part  of  his  offence  ?" 

Mordaunt's  brow  was  suddenly  overshadowed. 

"I  will  tell  you  another  time,"  he  said,  moodily.  "Enough 
for  to-night." 

"  As  you  will,"  I  replied ;  "  but,  meanwhile,  in  all  this  fancied 
rivalry  and  conflict  between  you  and  Saltouu,  what  becomes  of 
that  boy,  who  loves  the  young  lady  too  ?" 

And  I  pointed  to  the  prostrate  form  of  Achmed,  wrapped 
from  head  to  foot  in  his  long,  Moorish  burnoiis,  on  the  opposite 
side  of  the  camp-fire. 

Mordaunt  gazed  at  the  sleeping  form  in  melancholy  silence  for 
a  moment,  and  then  said  : 

"True — that  is  something  I  had  not  thought  of.  Yes!  the 
boy  loves  her  passionately  now ;  he  worships  the  very  ground 
she  walks  upon — and  there  is  no  hope  for  him.  This  handsome 
youth — this  stranger,  you  see,  Surry,  with  his  laughing  eyes, 
quite  overcomes  us  all — the  moody  Mordaunt,  and  the  Moor, 
too  !  Well,  Achmed  and  I  will  return,  doubtless,  after  the  fight- 
ing here  is  done — if  we  live  to  see  it  end — and  spend  the  rest  of 
onr  days  in  the  desert." 

"You  are  going  back  to  Europe?" 

"If  I  live — a  somewhat  uncertain  condition.  And  why  not, 
my  dear  Surry?  I  have  no  family,  no  ties  here  in  my  native 
country.  I  am  a  mere  estray — a  leaf  on  the  current.  Why 
should  I  not  drift  with  the  stream,  and  let  it  carry  me  where  it 
will  ?  Here  I  am  hemmed  in  by  convention.  If  I  try  to  make 
a  young  girl  happy,  at  some  cost,  too,  to  myself — but  we'll  not 
speak  of  that — the  gossips  buzz,  and  misrepresent  my  motives, 
and  even  blacken  my  fair  fame  as  a  gentleman.  It  is  not  so 
yonder.  In  the  desert  all  these  voices  die  away.  On  my  horse, 
with  my  arms  by  my  side,  I  am  free — perfectly  free  !  I  can  go 
18 


4:10  SURRY    OF    EAGLE'S-NEST. 

where  I  will,  act  as  I  fancy — and  the  wind  which  sweeps  the 
sand  never  whispers  what  I  say  or  do — for  the  eye  and  ear  of 
the  Almighty  alone  sees  and  hears  in  the  desert.  Yes,  I  think  I 
will  go  back  with  Achmed — the  East  is  the  land  of  lands,  and 
we  will  bury  there  all  the  trouble  we  have  felt  in  this." 

Mordaunt  rose  as  he  spoke,  and  looked  out  into  the  night. 
The  dark,  proud  eyes,  full  of  fire  and  melancholy,  seemed  en- 
deavoring to  plunge  into  the  darkness.  Then  he  banished,  by  an 
obvious  effort,  the  bitter  thoughts  which  absorbed  him,  and  said, 
with  his  habitual  calmness : 

"  You  are  going  over  the  river  in  the  morning,  Surry  ?" 

"  Yes,  to  see  some  friends." 

"  Well,  I  have  a  little  journey  to  make,  too  ?  If  you  return 
this  way  in  four  days  from  this  time,  I  hope  you  will  stop  again 
and  see  me." 

"  I  will  certainly  do  so." 

"  Well,  now  let  us  get  to  sleep,  my  guest.  You  must  be  tired 
after  riding  so  far." 

And  Mordaunt  made  room  for  me  on  his  cloak. 

In  half  an  hour  I  was  sound  asleep. 


CXY. 


SHOWING    THAT,  THOUGH    YOU    KNOW   WHEN   YOU   SET 
OUT,  YOU  DON'T  KNOW  WHEN  YOU  WILL  ARRIVE, 

When  I  awoke,  soon  after  daylight,  on  the  next  morning, 
Mordaunt  was  nowhere  to  be  seen ;  but  Achmed  was  standing 
by  the  fire. 

As  soon  as  I  opened  my  eyes,  he  saluted  me  with  his  calm  and 
graceful  courtesy,  and,  with  a  movement  of  his  hand,  called  my 
attention  to  a  small  camp-chest,  upon  the  lid  of  which  smoked 
an  appetizing  breakfast.  Mordaunt  had,  as  usual,  fulfilled  all  the 
rites  of  hospitality;  and  Farley  was  soon  speaking  in  high 
commendation  of  the  bitterly  strong  coffee.  Hurrying  through 
with  the  meal,  we  got  into  the  saddle — Farley's  horse  having 


THE    PRIVATE    SCOUT.  411 

been  fitted  with  four  excellent  new  shoes — and    then  we   set 
forward. 

Crossing  the  river  at  Hinson's  Ford,  we  pushed  on  through  the 
morning  sunlight,  and,  passing  Orleans,  found  ourselves  among 
the  hills  of  Fauquier,  at  that  time  constantly  scoured  by  scouting 
parties  of  Federal  cavalry,  bent  on  the  capture  of  the  formidable 
Mosby. 

"Now,  Surry,"  said  my  smiling  companion,  "we  had  better 
agree  upon  a  programme.  I  have  come  across  the  river  upon  a 
little  private  scout,  as  head-quarters  began  to  grow  tedious — and 
I  intend  to  pitch  into  the  first  Yankees  I  see,  and  have  some 
sport.  I  don't  expect  you,  however,  to  do  so,"  and  his  low 
laughter  followed,  "  for,  from  the  General's  jokes,  I  suppose 
you  are  making  a  scout  of  a  different  sort,  and  are  not  in  the 
humor  for  any  other." 

"  That  is  a  good  long  speech,  and  I  have  heard  you  without 
interruption,  Farley,"  I  said,  laughing.  "  Suppose,  however,  we 
wait  until  the  moment  comes,  and  leave  circumstances  to  decide." 

"  Good !  that  is  right.  I  think  it  will  come  pretty  soon,  as 
that  man  in  Orleans  said  a  party  of  Yankee  cavalry  were  scout- 
ing around  near  Barbee's." 

Before  we  had  reached  Barbee's  the  truth  of  this  report  was 
shown  in  a  manner  quite  unmistakable.  I  was  riding  carelessly 
along,  when  the  low  voice  of  Farley  uttered  the  single  word 
"Hist!"  and  he  immediately  spurred  his  horse  into  a  clump  of 
pine  bushes  on  the  side  of  the  road. 

I  followed,  and  we  had  no  sooner  ensconced  ourselves  behind 
the  screen  of  verdant  tassels,  than  the  tramp  of  hoofs  was  heard 
beyond  a  hill  in  front,  and,  in  a  few  moments,  a  squadron  of 
Federal  cavalry  appeared  upon  the  crest,  and  steadily  ap- 
proached. 

"This  is  just  what  I  want,"  whispered  Farley,  bending  over 
his  horse's  mane,  and  looking  through  the  second-growth  pines 
"I  am  going  to  fire  upon  them,  Surry,  and  run  them  off." 

The  thing  seemed  to  me  impossible — ignorant  as  I  was  of 
the  science  of  scouting — and  I  said  so ;  but  Farley  laughed,  in  his 
low,  confidential  voioe,  and  replied : 


4:12  SURRY    OF    EAGLE'S-NEST. 

"  I  know  this  sort  of  game  better  than  you  do,  old  fellow  I 
I'll  bet  that  they  run  at  the  first  fire  !" 

"  From  two  men  ?" 

"  So  you  are  going  to  take  a  hand." 

"Certainly,  if  you  open  the  ball.  I'll  never  desert  a  comrade, 
Farley ;  but  I  wouldn't  be  captured  for  worlds  at  the  present 
moment — and  I  am  getting  awfully  demoralized!" 

"  You  are  right !  Just  take  that  path  yonder,  and  you  will  be 
out  of  reach  in  ten  minutes." 

"And  leave  you?" 

"  Oh,  I  am  used  to  them !  and  they  know  me  so  well  that  a 
price  is  set  on  me." 

"  If  you  are  going  to  fire  on  them,  now  is  the  time." 

"You  stay?" 

"  Certainly." 

"  Good !  then  we'll  open  with  a  real  volley — ten  barrels,  one 
after  the  other ;  and,  if  they  crowd  us,  we  wi'll  fall  back  in  good 
order  to  the  woods  yonder!" 

Farley's  face  glowed  as  he  spoke ;  his  eyes  danced ;  his  lips 
were  smiling.  He  was  evidently  in  his  element,  and  enjoyed  the 
prospect  of  the  approaching  collision. 

It  soon  came.  The  squadron  of  blue-coats  was  now  within 
fifty  yards,  marching  in  columns  of  twos,  preceded  by  their 
captain,  an  officer  with  a  bushy  black  beard ;  and,  cocking  his 
pistol,  Farley  levelled  it  over  his  horse's  head,  whispering  : 

"Wait  till  I  give  the  word!"  He  waited  until  the  column 
was  directly  opposite,  and  then,  shouting  "Fire!"  aimed  at  the 
officer,  and  discharged  barrel  after  barrel  of  his  revolver.  I 
imitated  him,  and  the  sudden  attack  threw  the  column  into  the 
wildest  confusion.  Taken  completely  by  surprise,  and  wholly 
ignorant  of  the  force  opposed  to  them,  they  scattered  upon  every 
side ;  and  it  was  several  moments  before  the  voice  of  the  com- 
manding officer  could  be  heard. 

He  shouted  to  them  in  a  violent  rage  to  rally,  exclaiming, 
"Charge  the  bushes!  Fire  on  them!  Charge!"  and  under 
his  rapid  orders,  the  disordered  column  rallied,  and  poured  a  hot 
fire  into  the  bushes  where  we  were  standing. 


WE    ARE    CAPTURED.  413 

"That  won't  hurt  us!"  said  Farley,  as  the  hullets  whistled 
around.  "  I've  got  a  loaded  revolver  yet,  and  we'll  try  them  again !" 

As  he  spoke  he  drew  the  fresh  weapon,  and  fired  barrel  after 
barrel  into  the  cavalry. 

They  had,  however,  discovered  by  this  time  the  insignificant 
number  of  their  assailants,  and,  instead  of  charging  straight  into 
the  bushes,  the  officer  in  command  ordered  the  party  to  deploy 
and  surround  the  spot,  so  as  to  cut  off  our  retreat. 

"  Now  comes  the  tug,"  said  Farley  in  a  low  voice.  "  "We'll  fall 
back,  so  as  to  face  them  as  they  come." 

And  he  galloped  toward  the  wood  he  had  pointed  out  to  me,  I 
following. 

Before  we  had  gone  fifty  steps  a  rapid  fire  was  opened  upon  us 
from  the  rear  ;  and  suddenly  I  saw  Farley's  horse  go  down.  At 
the  same  instant  a  ball  inflicted  a  mortal  wound  on  the  animal  I 
was  riding,  and  I  found  myself  dismounted. 

By  this  time  the  enemy  had  closed  in  upon  us,  and  the  air  was 
full  of  bullets  hissing  around  us,  and  cutting  the  twigs  from  the 
pines,  or  whacking  against  the  trunks.  Farley  was  shot  three 
times  through  the  hat,  and  eight  times  through  the  skirts  and 
collar  of  his  coat.*  I  was  untouched— but  in  ten  minutes  we 
were  surrounded  and  captured. 

It  is  impossible  to  describe  the  rage  of  the  Federal  commander 
when  he  discovered  that  he  had  been  thus  audaciously  attacked 
by  two  men  only.  He  stormed  and  swore  at  us  in  a  manner  so 
frightful  that  I  thought  he  was  about  to  issue  an  order  for  our 
instant  execution  by  the  bullets  of  the  men.  Fortunately,  how- 
ever, he  became  somewhat  calmer,  in  consequence  of  this  pro- 
ceeding—the safety  valve  of  oaths  had  "  let  off  the  steam  "— - 
and,  wrathfully  assuring  us  that  we  would  be  treated  as  bush- 
whackers and  guerrillas,  he  directed  us  to  march  in  rear  of  the 
column,  now  again  in  line. 

This  we  accordingly  did,  but  our  slow  pace  impeded  the  ad- 
vance, and  we  were  finally  mounted  upon  two  horses,  taken 
from  citizens — to  which  our  saddles  had  been  transferred. 

*  Historical.    Tho  whole  is  a  real  adventure  of  Farley's. 


414  SURRY    OF    EAGLE'S-NEST. 

As  we  thus  went  on,  under  guard,  I  had  ample  opportunity  to 
realize  to  the  fullest  extent  my  ill  fortune.  Was  ever  any  thing 
more  unlucky  ?  An  hour  before,  I  had  been  within  a  few  miles 
of  the  woman  whom  I  loved  more  than  all  the  world  beside — I 
was  going  to  hear  that  musical  voice  once  more,  bask  again  in 
that  golden  smile — and  now  I  was  a  prisoner,  in  the  hands  of  the 
enemy,  doomed  probably  to  languish  for  months  to  come  in 
some  Northern  prison !  At  that  moment,  I  think  I  would  have 
embraced  any  opportunity,  although  involving  almost  certain 
death,  to  make  my  escape  ;  but  the  thing  was  quite  impossible — on 
every  side  the  scowling  blue-coats,  with  cocked  carbines,  made 
the  attempt  desperate. 


CXYI. 

THE    WOES    OP    BASKERVILLE. 

This  was  the  rather  depressing  condition  of  affairs,  when,  late 
in  the  afternoon,  the  column,  which  had  made  a  circuit  through 
the  country,  reached  the  neighborhood  of  the  Pignut  Mountain, 
west  of  New  Baltimore. 

Here  they  halted  in  front  of  a  large  and  elegant  mansion,  and, 
accompanied  by  a  portion  of  his  command,  the  captain  of  the 
troop  strode  up  to  the  door. 

What  was  my  astonishment  to  see  no  less  a  personage  than 
Baskerville  appear  upon  the  threshold  in  irreproachable  citizen's 
costume,  of  black  and  white,  without  a  particle  of  gray  any- 
where about  him — Baskerville,  smiling,  winning,  the  soul  of  hos- 
pitality and  politeness  to  his  visitors. 

This  warm  reception,  however,  did  not  seem  to  make  much 
impression  upon  the  Federal  officer. 

"  Your  name  is  Baskerville  I"  he  said  roughly. 

"  Yes,  Captain,"  was  the  smiling  reply. 

"  You  are  an  officer  in  the  Rebel  army  ?" 

"  Oh,  by  no  means,"   came   from   the   other,  whose  manner 


THE    WOES    OF    BASKERVILLE.         415 

became  still  more  suave.  "  I  had  at  one  time  a  temporary  con- 
nection, in  a  subordinate  capacity,  with  the  Rebel  forces, 
Captain" — he  said  rebel ! — "  but  it  was  merely  as  an  amateur !  The 
fact  is,  I  could  never  enter  cordially  into  the  treasonable  schemes 
of  the  rebels.  I  am  a  good  Union  man  upon  principle,  Cap- 
tain." 

"  Then  you  have  no  objection  to  taking  the  oath?"  asked  the 
black-bearded  worthy. 

"  Oh,  not  the  least!     I  will  take  it  with  pleasure!" 

"Are  you  a  Virginian,  Mr.  Baskerville?"  said  the  Federal 
officer  coolly. 

"  Yes,  Captain." 

"Born  in  this  State?" 

"Yes,  Sir." 

"  Your  family  and  friends  are  all  here  ?" 

"All,  Captain!" 

"  And  some  are  in  the  service?" 

"  Nearly  all  of  them." 

"  Then,  in  my  opinion,  Mr.  Baskerville,"  returned  the  growl- 
ing worthy,  "  you  are  a  sneak,  and  I  won't  trust  your  oath  !  I 
have  no  opinion  of  you  'Union  men,'  who  profess  so  much 
loyalty,  and  can't  find  it  in  your  hearts  to  go  either  with  us  or 
with  your  native  State — all  because  you  want  to  save  your  crops 
and  horses  and  bacon,  and  don't  want  to  risk  your  valuable 
skins !  There  may  be  some  of  your  class  who  are  obliged  to 
take  the  oath  against  their  feelings,  from  family  circumstances — 
but  I  don't  consider  you  one  of  them.  I  won't  trust  you,  sir ! 
"We  want  fresh  horses!" 

And,  making  a  sign  to  the  troops : 

"Gut  the  whole  place!"  said  black-beard. 

It  is  astonishing  how  rapidly  and  completely  this  order  was 
obeyed.  The  troops  scattered,  and  soon  reappeared  leading 
about  a  dozen  beautiful  horses. 

Baskerville's  face  was  the  image  of  despair,  as  he  saw  his 
splendid  horses  thus  about  to  be  carried  off ;  but  his  troubles 
were  not  ended. 

"  Now  I  want  something  to  eat  for  myself  and  my  command," 


4:16  SURRY    OF    EAGLE'S-NEST. 

said  the  Captain.     "Be  quick  with  it.      I  am  going  to  move 
on!" 

Baskerville  obeyed  this  imperative  order,  and  we  could  see 
through  the  window  a  costly  mahogany  table  covered  with 
dishes,  containing  hams,  cold  beef,  bread — every  edible  ;  and  the 
dishes  were  flanked  by  decanters  of  wine  and  brandy. 

A  motley  rout  threw  themselves  upon  these  viands;  demol- 
ished the  meats,  guzzled  the  liquids,  and  smash  after  smash  of 
china  told  the  story  of  Baskerville's  woes. 

"They  are  playing  the  very  devil  in  there!"  said  Farley, 
laughing.     "  It  is  rather  hard  treatment  for  a  good  Union  man !" 

"Where  are  the  prisoners?"  I  now  heard  the  Captain  shout- 
ing ;  "  bring  them  in  with  the  second  relay !" 

And  we  were  conducted  into  the  house.  The  scene  was 
striking.  In  a  magnificent  apartment,  with  rich  carpet,  elegant 
furniture,  and  many  pictures  on  the  walls,  the  Federal  officer 
and  his  myrmidons  were  seated  around  the  great  dining-table 
covered  with  the  refuse  of  their  repast — "broken  meats,"  half 
demolished  loaves,  and  empty  decanters.  All  were  devouring 
the  substance  of  Baskerville  with  greedy  mouths,  the  long  ride 
having  whetted  every  appetite ;  and  over  this  wild  crew  pre- 
sided the  Federal  captain,  laughing,  jesting,  with  a  flushed  face, 
which  betrayed  an  intimate  acquaintance  with  Baskerville's 
liquids. 

"Bring  in  the  prisoners,  d — n  'em,"  said  the  Captain,  "and 
let  'em  eat.     We  don't  charge  extra  at  this  hotel." 

And  we  were  conducted  to  the  table. 

Suddenly  my  eye  met  Baskerville's,  and  I  shall  never  forget 
his  expression.  Was  it  wrath,  shame,  confusion — what?  I 
know  not,  but  it  was  not  agreeable.  I  could  not  despise  this 
man  more  thoroughly  than  before,  but  I  pitied  him. 

He  did  not  utter  a  word  during  the  whole  scene,  and  soon  he 
was  rid  of  his  unwelcome  guests.  We  rose — neither  Farley  nor 
myself  had  touched  a  mouthful. 

"Fall  in  there!"  shouted  the  Captain,  walking  unsteadily  to 
the  door.     "  I  am  going  to  move  on." 

Then,  turning  to  Baskerville,  he  said,  with  drunken  gravity : 


I    MAKE    AN    ACQUAINTANCE.  417 

"  Let  me  advise  you,  my  friend,  to  go  into  the  Rebel  army 
again.  I  won't  have  the  pleasure  of  dining  with  you  then  ;  but 
no  matter :  you  will  be  in  a  more  creditable  place  than  at 
home!" 

With  these  words,  the  speaker  strode  out,  mounted  unsteadily 
into  the  saddle ;  and  the  column  again  began  to  move. 

Looking  back,  I  saw  Baskerville  standing  in  his  front  door, 
with  a  face  full  of  rage  and  anguish — and  I  have  never  seen  him 
since. 

The  squadron  moved  now  toward  New  Baltimore,  but  night 
all  at  once  descended,  and  the  Captain,  who  rode  on  with  a  rather 
sleepy  air,  ordered  a  halt. 

In  a  few  minutes  the  men  had  broken  ranks,  dismounted,  and 
picketed  their  horses  to  the  trees  of  the  secluded  glade  in  which 
the  column  halted;  and  it  was  evidently  their  intention  to 
spend  the  night  there. 

An  hour  afterward  the  men  had  cooked  and  eaten  their  ra- 
tions ;  the  pickets  were  established,  and  the  weary  cavalry-men 
wrapped  themselves  in  their  blankets,  and  began  to  snore. 

Farley  and  myself  had  been  placed  under  guard,  but  not 
otherwise  confined;  and  now  lay  side  by  side  for  warmth,  under 
a  large  oak,  near  a  smouldering  camp-fire. 

Within  three  paces  of  us  a  dismounted  cavalry-man  walked  to 
and  fro,  with  measured  tread — his  carbine  in  his  hand — prepared 
to  obey  to  the  letter,  apparently,  the  order  which  he  had  re- 
ceived, to  kill  us  instantly  if  we  made  any  attempt  to  escape. 


CXYII. 

I  MAKE  THE  ACQUAINTANCE   OF   A   FAMOUS  CHARACTER, 

If  you  will  turn,  my  dear  reader,  to  the  famous  history  which 

has  immortalized  the  name  of  Cervantes,  you  will  find  that  the 

characters  of  the  drama,  whenever  they  fall  into  difficulties,  are 

accustomed  to   bewail,  in  pathetic  paragraphs,  their  unhappy 

18* 


*lo  SURRY    OF    EAGLE'S-NEST. 

situation,  and  thus  arouse,  as  far  as  possible,  the  interest  and 
sympathy  of  the  reader. 

Had  I  the  genius  of  the  great  soldier  and  historian,  I 
might  here  dwell  on  the  most  unfortunate  chance  which  had 
thus  dashed  all  my  hopes,  and  extinguished,  "  at  one  fell  swoop," 
all  my  rosy  dreams  of  soon  meeting  May  Beverley  again.  But 
ulas!  I  am  only  a  humdrum  ex-lieutenant-colonel  and  A.  A.  G., 
drawing  the  outline  of  my  life — not  a  dramatic  writer  at  all. 
Thus  I  am  compelled  to  request  the  kind  reader  to  place  him- 
eelf,  if  possible,  in  my  situation,  and  to  imagine  how  I  felt.  I 
proceed  to  relate  what  ensued. 

Farley  and  myself  lay  down,  but,  in  spite  of  the  long  ride  we 
had  taken,  from  dawn  to  dark,  felt  no  disposition  to  sleep.  My 
companion  at  first  remained  so  quiet  that  I  thought  he  had  fallen 
asleep  ;  but  a  few  moments  afterward  I  found  that  this  was  far 
from  being  the  fact.  Turning  sluggishly  over,  as  a  man  does 
when  changing  his  position  during  slumber,  his  lips  were  placed 
close  to  my  ear;  and,  in  a  whisper  so  low  that  the  low  singing 
of  the  fire  almost  drowned  it,  he  said : 

"Don't  go  to  sleep — lam  going  to  escape.  Don't  answer — 
listen!" 

The  guard  turned  and  approached  ;  then,  with  measured  step, 
receded.     He  had  evidently  heard  nothing. 

"  As  soon  as  every  thing  is  perfectly  quiet,"  Farley  whispered, 
in  the  same  low  tone,  "  I  will  give  the  signal  and  spring  upon 
the  sentinel.  He  will  resist,  and  his  carbine  will  go  off  in  the 
struggle — but  I  will  wrench  it  from  him ;  it  is  a  repeating  rifle, 
and  then  let  the  first  man  who  attempts  to  stop  me  look  to  him- 
self!" 

I  turned  over,  as  Farley  had  done,  and  whispered  : 

"  Give  the  signal  when  you  are  ready." 

He  moved  his  head  slightly,  and  then  lay  perfectly  still,  with 
his  eyes  closed ;  but  I  could  see  that  he  was  looking  from  under 
the  lids  at  the  sentinel. 

One  by  one  all  the  noises  of  the  camp  subsided — the  horses 
ceased  stamping — nothing  was  heard  but  the  measured  tramp  of 
the  sentinel. 


I    MAKE    AN    ACQUAINTANCE.  419 

As  he  turned  his  hack  in  one  of  his  rounds,  Farley  rose  sud- 
denly on  his  elbow  and  looked  about  him. 

Not  a  movement  among  the  recumbent  figures  greeted  this 
manoeuvre,  and,  as  the  guard  turned,  Farley  was  again  appa- 
rently sound  asleep. 

Once  more  the  sentinel  approached ;  remained  a  moment 
stationary  beside  the  fire,  warming  his  hands ;  then  he  turned 
his  back  once  more  on  his  round. 

No  sooner  had  he  done  so  than  Farley  exclaimed  "Now  I"  and 
rose  to  his  feet.  With  a  single  bound  he  was  on  the  sentinel, 
and  clutched  his  weapon,  while  I  caught  him  by  the  throat. 

What  we  had  anticipated  took  place.  The  carbine  went  off  in 
the  struggle,  and  in  an  instant  the  camp  was  aroused,  and  we 
were  completely  surrounded.  Farley  darted  into  the  shadow 
of  the  trees — I  followed — and  we  commenced  running;  but 
everywhere  foes  started  up  in  our  path,  and  the  moment  had 
evidently  come  when  we  must  surrender  or  die. 

At  that  instant  there  suddenly  resounded  in  our  very  ears  the 
sharp  crack  of  pistols  ;  and,  before  I  could  realize  the  source  from 
which  the  sound  issued,  a  wild  cheer  rang  through  the  wood, 
and  a  party  of  cavalry -men,  in  gray  coats,  rushed  into  tlie  camp, 
trampling  over  the  Federal  soldiers,  who  were  seen  running  to 
arms. 

What  followed  did  not  occupy  ten  minutes.  A  scattering  and 
aimless  fire  came  from  the  Federal  cavalry-men,  half  of  whom 
were  only  partly  awake ;  and  then,  at  the  ringing  order  of  a 
slender  individual,  mounted  on  an  iron-gray  mare,  they  threw 
down  their  arms,  and  offered  no  further  resistance. 

The  slender  personage  leaped  from  horseback,  by  a  camp-fire 
burning  beneath  an  oak,  and,  as  he  did  so,  I  had  a  full  view  of 
him.  He  was  a  man  apparently  about  thirty  years  of  age,  of 
middle  height — thin,  lithe,  vigorous,  and  as  active  in  all  his 
movements  as  a  wildcat.  His  face  was  entirely  beardless;  his 
hair  light;  his  lips  thin,  and  wreathed  with  a  satirical  smile, 
which  showed  his  brilliant  teeth ;  his  eyes  gray,  sparkling,  and 
eternally  roving  from  side  to  side.  This  personage  wore  a  plain 
gray  suit,  and  a  brown  hat  with  a  golden  cord  ;  his  only  arms 


420  SURRY    OF    EAGLE'S-NEST. 

were  two  pistols  in  his  loose  swaying  belt  of  black  leather, 
clasped  over  a  red  sash. 

"  Well !"  he  said,  in  brief,  quick  accents,  as  the  prisoners  were 
ranged  in  a  line  by  the  fire,  "how  many  horses ?" 

A  sergeant  touched  his  hat,  and  said  : 

"  I  think  there  are  about  sixty,  Major." 

"How  many  prisoners?" 

The  sergeant  counted  rapidly. 

"  Fifty -five,  Major." 

u  Where  is  the  commanding  officer  ?" 

"Here  I  am,"  growled  our  friend,  the  black-bearded  ;  "whom, 
am  I  to  surrender  to  ?" 

"  To  Mosby,"  was  the  reply  of  the  slender  individual,  with  a 
keen  glance  of  his  gray  eye. 

At  the  name  of  the  formidable  partisan,  every  prisoner  turned 
quickly  and  fixed  his  eyes  upon  the  speaker.  Mosby  was  evi- 
dently their  bugbear,  and  they  expected,  doubtless,  to  be  shot 
without  ceremony,  so  persistent  had  the  Northern  journals  been 
in  representing  the  partisan  as  a  ruthless  bandit. 

Mosby's  thin  lips  curled  satirically.  The  evidence  of  interest 
betrayed  by  his  prisoners  seemed  to  amuse  him. 

"See  that  these  men  are  entirely  disarmed,"  he  said  to  a 
lieutenant,  "  and  then  have  their  horses  brought.  I  am  going 
back." 

As  he  spoke,  his  eye  fell  upon  myself  and  Farley. 

"Who  are  these?" 

Farley  advanced,  and,  with  a  smile,  held  out  his  hand. 

"  You  don't  recognize  your  old  friends,  Mosby  ?" 

"Farley!     Is  it  possible?" 

"  Yes,  and  this  is  Colonel  Surry,  of  General  Jackson's  staff." 

I  had  the  honor  of  being  stared  at  by  the  prisoners  when  the 
name  of  Jackson  was  thus  uttered,  as  Mosby  had  been. 

He  saw  it,  and  laughed. 

"  Glad  to  recapture  you,  Colonel,"  he  said ;  "  as  we  ride  back, 
I  will  get  you  to  tell  me  your  adventures.  Captain  Mount- 
joy!" 

An  officer  of  erect  and  military  carriage,  calm  expression,  and 


I    MAKE    AN    ACQUAINTANCE.  421 

dark  eyes,  penetrating  but  sad,  advanced  at  this  summons,  and 
made  the  military  salute. 

"  Captain,  see  that  the  prisoners  are  mounted  and — hut  you 
are  as  white  as  a  sheet,  Mountjoy!" 

"Only  a  little  scratch,  Major!"  was  the  reply  of  the  officer, 
with  a  smile,  hut  as  he  spoke  his  form  tottered. 

Mosby  caught  him  as  he  was  about  to  fall,  and  turned  with  a 
savage  glare  in  his  eyes  toward  the  Federal  captain,  at  whom 
he  shook  his  clinched  hand. 

"  This  man  is  worth  the  whole  of  you !"  he  growled,  "  and  if  he 
dies!"— 

Mountjoy  opened  his  eyes,  and  rose  erect. 

"  It  was  only  a  little  faintness,  Major,"  he  said,  smiling.  "  What 
order  did  you  give?" 

"  Richards  will  see  to  it,  Mountjoy,"  was  the  reply.  "  Can 
you  ride  ?" 

"  Without  difficulty,  Major." 

And  he  turned  toward  his  horse. 

"Hold  on  a  minute,"  said  Mosby  ;  and,  untying  the  red  sash 
around  his  waist,  he  bound  up  the  bleeding  arm  of  Captain 
Mountjoy,  and  then  assisted  him  to  mount. 

"That  is  one  of  my  best  and  bravest  officers,"  he  said,  as  he 
came  back.  "  But  we  are  losing  time.  I  am  going  to  move  back, 
gentlemen  ;  take  such  horses  as  you  like." 

In  ten  minutes  the  column  of  cavalry  was  moving  on,  with 
the  mounted  prisoners.  Farley  and  myself  rode  in  front  with 
Mosby. 

He  laughed  at  the  narrative  of  our  mishaps,  and  I  found  him 
a  most  agreeable  companion.  Perfectly  simple  and  unassuming 
in  appearance  and  address,  Mosby  was  not  in  the  least  like  the 
ferocious  bandit  which  the  correspondents  of  Northern  journals 
had  represented  him  to  be ;  and  it  was  hard,  indeed,  to  realize 
that  the  laughing  personage,  with  the  beardless  face  and  careless 
carriage,  riding  at  my  side,  was  the  redoubtable  chief  of  parti- 
sans— the  terror  of  the  Federal  invaders. 

"My  dear  Major,"  I  said,  laughing,  as  we  rode  on,  "you  are 
not  at  all  like  the  bloody  wild-boar  of  the  Yankee  newspapers. 


4:22  SURRY  OF  EAGLE'S-NEST. 

I  think  I  could  meet  you  in  the  woods  of  'Mosby's  Confederacy1 
here,  without  the  least  fear  of  having  my  throat  cut  or  my  pocket 
picked  by  you  or  your  gentry — things  which  our  blue-coated 
friends  yonder  evidently  expected." 

Mosby  laughed. 

"  That  is  easily  explained,"  he  replied.  "  "When  my  men  cap- 
ture or  destroy  an  army  train,  the  Federal  generals  are  crippled 
i — they  get  into  trouble  at  head-quarters — and  they  defend  them- 
selves by  making  me  out  a  robber  and  bushwhacker,  instead  of 
A  chief  of  partisans." 

"  That  is  probably  the  origin  of  the  whole  thing." 

"  Undoubtedly.  Why  am  I  a  'bushwhacker,'  Colonel?  I  am 
regularly  commissioned  by  the  Confederate  States  War  Depart- 
ment as  major  of  cavalry ;  I  command  regularly  enrolled  troops ; 
and  I  carry  on  open  warfare,  under  the  Confederate  flag,  and 
wearing  Confederate  gray.  Why  am  I  a  robber  ?  It  is  a  part 
of  my  duty  to  capture  all  the  war  material  of  the  enemy  I  can, 
including  greenbacks,  which  are  used  in  Loudoun  and  other  bor- 
der counties  by  our  Government,  and  the  want  of  which  makes 
the  unpaid  Federal  soldiers  dissatisfied.  I  have  captured  mil- 
lions, and  I  am  poorer  to-day  than  when  I  entered  the  service." 

"  Which  certainly  pays  badly." 

"  It  pays  me  well  in  other  ways.  No  man  ever  had  better 
friends  than  I  have  in  this  region  and  the  Valley,  both  of  which 
I  have  tried  to  defend.  I  intend  to  fight  for  the  possession  of 
the  country  to  the  last ;  and,  if  the  Confederate  cause  goes  under, 
I  will  be  the  last  to  lower  my  flag." 

"Long  may  it  wave  over  'Mosby's  Confederacy,'  my  dear 
Major !  and  may  you  always  appear  upon  the  scene  at  a  time  as 
.lucky  as  to-night!" 

Thus,  in  talk  about  many  things,  the  night  passed.  At  sun- 
rise I  parted  with  the  gallant  Mosby,  and  Farley,  who  decided 
to  remain  and  go  upon  another  scout  with  him.  The  horse  I 
rode  was  Mosby's  parting  present  to  me. 

On  the  same  afternoon  I  came  in  sight  of  The  Oaks. 


THE    MYSTERY    SOLVED.  423 

OXVTII. 

WHICH   SOLVES   THE   WHOLE   MYSTERY. 

I  approached  the  old  mansion  with  mingled  sensations — a 
hundred  conflicting  surmises  and  emotions. 

What  was  the  meaning  of  that  summons  from  May  Beverley  ? 
Was  her  engagement  broken  off?  What  could  have  produced  a 
consummation  so  devoutly  to  he  wished?  Not  Baskerville's 
Union  opinions.  They  were  fully  known  to  Colonel  Beverley, 
but  had  not  induced  him — fiery  as  his  Southern  feeling  was — to 
refuse  compliance  with  his  promise.  He  had  regarded  his  word 
to  Baskerville's  father  as  binding,  despite  these  proclivities  of 
the  young  man :  and  thus  I  was  completely  at  sea  for  an  ex- 
planation of  my  apparent  good  fortune. 

Such  was  the  puzzled  frame  of  mind  in  which  I  approached 
The  Oaks  ;  and,  as  a  man  condemned  to  death,  but  hoping  for  a 
pardon,  rushes  to  the  prison  door  to  learn  his  fate,  so  now  the 
unfortunate  Surry,  burning  with  suspense,  put  spur  to  his  horse, 
and  rapidly  ascended  the  grassy  hill,  upon  whose  slopes  the 
fresh  spring  grass  and  the  first  flowers  of  April  were  beginning 
to  peep  forth. 

The  eyes  of  a  girl  had  seen  the  rapidly  approaching  figure 
from  the  window  of  her  chamber,  I  afterward  knew ;  and  as  I 
entered  the  wide  hall,  she  stood  before  me,  as  bright  and  beau- 
tiful as  a  vision  of  the  spring. 

Before,  the  beloved  form  had  glided  onward  by  my  side  like  a 
dream  of  autumn — some  dear  illusion  of  the  fading  days  when 
the  fingers  of  the  wind  strip,  one  by  one,  the  leaves  from  the 
trees,  the  blooms  from  the  rose,  the  glory  from  the  landscape  of 
the  mountains.  Now  she  stood  before  me — with  her  violet  eyes, 
her  chestnut  hair,  her  form  as  tall  and  flexible  as  the  water-flag 
upon  the  margin  of  the  Shenandoah.  No  longer  like  a  dream- 
no  more  an  illusion  ;  but  warm  and  loving,  with  the  deep,  fond 
blushes,  and  rosy  smiles  of  a  Virginia  girl— far  better,  to  my 
thinking,  than  the  fairest  forms  of  Dreamland  ! 


4:24  SURRY    OF    E  AGLE'S-NEST. 

"  You  sent  for  me  ?" 

"  Yes." 

"Kiss  me  first,  May  !" 

Did  the  old  portraits  look  down  laughing,  with  their  curious 
eyes,  at  the  spectacle  of  a  woman  in  a  man's  embrace  ?  I  think, 
sometimes,  that  these  "  old  people  "  see  the  drama  of  to-day  as 
they  saw  the  tragedy  or  the  comedy  of  the  past ;  that  they  hear 
the  sighs  or  the  laughter,  see  the  smiles  and  tears — are  not  dead 
at  all,  but  ever  present  with  us ! 

No  one  but  May  Beverley  had  seen  me  arrive — all  the  rest 
were  busy  somewhere — and,  in  a  moment,  we  were  seated  upon 
the  portico,  and  she  was  showing  me  some  papers — with  a  deep 
flush  in  her  cheeks. 

As  I  am  growing  old  now,  my  dear  reader,  and  like  to  "  come 
to  business,"  I  proceed  to  lay  before  you  the  contents  of  these 
highly  interesting  documents,  without  further  delay.  You  will 
see  that  they  solved  all  those  puzzling  questions  which  I  had 
been  asking  myself  upon  the  road,  in  a  manner — see  the  novel- 
ists— "  as  curious  as  it  was  unexpected." 

Here  is  Document  No.  1,  in  the  handwriting  of  Baskerville — 
with  all  the  italics  preserved : 

"  Baskerville  Villa, 

"April  15th,  1863. 
"  Miss  Beverley  : 

"Eor  some  time  now  it  has  been  plain  to  me  that  our  engage- 
ment is  distasteful  to  you,  and  that  you  wish  to  be  released  from 
it.  Considering  the  fact  that  you  gave  me  ample  encouragement, 
and  never,  until  you  met  with  a  person  whom  I  need  not  name, 
showed  any  dissatisfaction  at  the  prospect  of  becoming  Mrs. 
Baslccrville,  I  might  be  justified  in  demanding  the  fulfilment  of 
your  engagement.  But  I  do  not  wish  to  coerce  the  action  of 
any  young  lady,  however  my  feelings  may  be  involved,  and  I  scorn 
to  take  advantage  of  a  compact  made  in  good  faith  by  my  late 
father  and  myself.  I  therefore  release  you  from  your  engage- 
ment. 

"  Hoping  that  this  will  meet  your  approbation,  I  request  that 


THE    MYSTERY    SOLVED.  425 

you  will  return  the  bracelets — turquoise — the  diamond  ring,  and 
a  breast-pin.  In  concluding.  Miss  Beverley,  I  am  willing  to  bury 
all  animosity,  and  to  be  your  friend — and  if  I  can  serve  you  in 
any  way,  it  will  give  me  pleasure.  I  bear  that  the  Union  soldiers 
have  carried  off  all  your  servants,  which  must  be  a  heavy  blmo 
at  this  time — and  as  I  know  personally  the  officer  commanding 
in  this  district,  I  may  be  able  to  get  some  of  them  back  for  you. 
If  agreeable  to  you,  I  will  make  the  attempt — but  not  otherwise. 
"  Please  reply  by  the  bearer,  who  has  orders  to  wait  until  he 
gets  an  answer. 

"I  am 

"  Yours  respectfully, 

"  Frederick  Baskerville." 

There  is  Document  No.  1.  Here  is  Document  No.  2 — of  which 
the  young  lady  had  kept  a  copy  : 

"The  Oaks, 

"April  16th,  1863. 
"  Mr.  Baskerville  : 

"  I  received  your  note.  Thank  you,  sir  !  If  I  could  have  in- 
duced you  to  write  that  letter  by  kneeling  before  you,  I  should 
have  knelt  to  you. 

"  I  am  not  angry  at  the  terms  in  which  you  address  me,  or  the 
accusations  you  bring  against  me.  But  do  you  think  it  was 
manly,  sir,  to  charge  me  with  bad  faith,  and  with  '  encouraging ' 
you?  I  was  almost  a  child  when  I  formed  that  engagement — 
years  ago  I  repented  of  it,  but  you  would  not  consent  to  have  it 
terminated.  You  availed  yourself  of  my  father's  point  of 
honor  in  adhering  to  his  word,  and  you  cruelly  refused  to  release 
me  from  a  contract  which  had  become  absolutely  hateful  to  me, 
until — shall  I  tell  you  when,  sir?  You  had  determined  to  force 
me  into  this  revolting  marriage,  and  remained  so  determined 
until — my  property  was  gone.  You  compel  me  to  tell  you  that, 
sir — I  know  your  motive  as  perfectly  as  though  you  had  expressed 
it  in  the  plainest  language. 

"Your  information  in  regard  to  the  loss  of  the  servants  left 


426  SURRY    OF   EAGLE'S-NEST. 

me  by  my  uncle,  is  entirely  correct — not  one  is  left — no,  not  one, 
sir.  I  am  absolutely  penniless ;  and  papa,  I  believe,  owes  a  great 
deal  of  money — so  my  portion  of  The  Oaks  will  be  absolutely 
nothing.     You  see,  sir,  I  am  poor — very  poor. 

"  Do  not  give  yourself  any  trouble  about  the  servants,  I  beg. 
I  am  afraid  the  institution  of  slavery  is  unscriptural,  and  nothing 
could  induce  me  to  receive  them  back.  Poor  things !  they  did 
not  know  the  trouble  they  caused  me,  and,  doubtless,  cannot 
understand  my  heartfelt  joy  at  seeing  them  safely  under  the 
protection  of  your  friend,  the  '  officer  commanding  in  this  dis- 
trict.' 

"I  return  the  bracelets,  ring,  and  breast-pin,  with  some  other 
little  articles,  which  are  your  property. 

"  You  are  willing,  you  say,  to  bury  all  animosity,  and  remain 
my  friend.  Yes,  a  thousand  times,  sir !  Thank  you  for  your 
letter,  Mr.  Baskerville  !     I  am  your  friend  for  life. 

"  Mat  Beverley." 

There  is  the  "correspondence,"  my  dear  reader.  What  is 
your  opinion  of  it  ?  For  my  part,  I  would  rather  charge  three 
tiers  of  breastworks,  manned  with  infantry,  and  flanked  by 
cannon,  than  receive  such  a  letter  from  a  woman  like  May 
Beverley.  The  serene  contempt  of  the  production,  and  the 
entire  absence  of  any  thing  like  anger,  would  have  made  me  rage, 
I  think. 

After  reading  Baskerville's  letter,  I  had  an  ardent  desire  to  go 
and  cut  that  gentleman's  throat.  After  reading  the  young  lady's 
reply,  I  experienced  a  good  Samaritan  inclination  to  seek  him 
and  bind  up  his  wounds.  Why  should  I  force  a  quarrel  on  this 
best  of  friends,  who  had  so  completely  fulfilled  my  most  cherished 
wishes?  Why  should  I  find  fault  with  those  little  hasty  expres- 
sions which  escaped  him  in  the  heat  of  composition  ?  Under 
other  circumstances,  I  might  have  vented  all  my  spleen  upon 
the  affiance  of  Miss  Beverley  ;  but  Baskerville  no  longer  figured 
in  that  character — another  individual  occupied  that  relation  to 
the  young  lady — and  that  individual  was  too  well  satisfied  to  mar 
the  festive  scene  with  blood. 


MAY    BEVERLY,    ETC.  427 

I  had  just  finished  reading  the  young  lady's  letter  when  a 
step  behind  me  suddenly  attracted  my  attention,  and  Colonel 
Beverley,  erect  and  smiling,  issued  forth  and  pressed  my  hand. 

"  I  see  May  has  shown  you  that  very  discreditable  and  insult- 
ing letter,  and  her  reply,"  said  the  old  gentleman  smiling. 

"  Yes,  Colonel ;  and  I  hope  it  changes  every  thing  ?" 

"Completely!" 

And  the  old  cavalier  laughed  heartily,  as  a  young  lady,  with 
a  face  all  smiles  and  blushes,  flitted  through  the  door,  and  dis- 
appeared. 


CXIX. 

IN    WHICH    MAT    BEVERLEY    PASSES    AWAY    FROM 
THIS  HISTORY. 

Have  you  never  observed  the  fact,  my  dear  reader,  that  there 
is  nothing  more  stupid,  in  books  or  life,  than  happiness?  It  is 
the  trials  and  sufferings  of  the  characters  which  interest  us  in 
romances — the  dear,  delightful  misfortunes  of  our  friends  which 
render  real  life  so  cheerful  and  attractive. 

Observe,  as  a  proof  of  this  latter  statement,  that,  as  long  as 
Lieutenant-Colonel  Surry  pined  away  for  love  of  a  young  lady 
who  was  affianced  to  another,  his  ill  fortune  excited  the  sym- 
pathy of  his  friends;  and  the  young  ladies  everywhere,  who 
knew  his  sad  predicament,  exclaimed  with  tender  voices,  "  What 
a  pity!"  But  just  as  soon  as  every  cloud  passed  away,  and  he 
became  engaged  to  Miss  Beverley  with  the  full  consent  of  her 
parents,  all  this  sympathy  disappeared :  no  more  interest  was 
taken  in  him,  and  his  friends  gushed  out  in  tender  commisera- 
tion of  the  woes  of  some  other  ill-starred  lover. 

So  it  would  be  with  those  unseen  friends  who  will  read  their 
humble  servant's  memoirs.  They  would  not  be  amused  by  the 
picture  of  tranquil  happiness:  the  blushes  and  murmured  words 
would  appear  insipid — the  stream,  no  longer  broken  into  silver 
ripples  by  the  obstacles  in  its  bed,  would  glide  on  tamely  and 
without  a  particle  of  "  the  picturesque." 


428  SURRY    OF    EAGLE'S-NEST. 

So  to  horse  !  and  back  across  the  border !  Other  events  await 
us.  Hooker  is  about  to  advance — Stuart  is  in  the  saddle — and 
perhaps,  as  we  cross  the  Rappahannock  again,  we  shall  know 
where  Mordaunt  has  been  journeying. 

Yet  ere  you  shake  your  bridle-rein,  and  bid  farewell  to  the 
good  old  Oaks,  gentle  reader — see,  standing  there  in  the  April 
sunshine,  that  slender  form,  as  graceful  as  a  flower  of  the  gay 
spring  forest :  that  girl  with  the  waving  chestnut  hair,  which  the 
sunlight  turns  to  gold;  the  violet  eyes  of  a  blue  as  deep  and 
tender  as  the  glad  sky  overhead ;  with  the  lips  half  parted  aud 
as  rosy  as  carnations ;  the  cheeks  full  of  blushes,  the  bosom 
heaving — look  at  May  Beverley,  and  tell  me  whether  this  little 
Virginian  flower  was  not  worth  the  trouble  which  it  cost  a  friend 
of  yours  to  place  her  in  his  bosom  ? 

I  thought  so  then,  when  she  was  the  little  blossom  of  "  The 
Oaks  " — I  think  so  still,  when  she  is  the  queenly  rose  of  "  Eagle's 
Nest,"  with  a  young  flower-garden  blooming  all  around  her. 


cxx. 

DIABOLISM. 

I  reached  the  banks  of  the  Rappahannock  without  further 
accident,  and,  crossing  near  Orleans,  came  in  sight  of  Mor- 
daunt's  camp  again,  as  the  sun  was  sinking  behind  the  Blue 
Ridge. 

Near  the  tent  stood  Mordaunt's  powerful  black  horse,  covered 
with  the  foam  of  a  hard  journey,  and  as  I  dismounted,  Mordaunt 
issued  forth,  his  uniform  soiled  with  dust,  apparently  from  the 
same  cause. 

But  I  did  not  look  at  his  uniform.  The  proud  face  riveted 
my  regard.  Never  have  I  seen  upon  human  countenance  a  more 
resplendent  expression.  Mordaunt's  eyes  were  fairly  radiant, 
and  his  swarthy  face  glowed  with  passionate  joy.  There  was 
no  mistaking  that  look.  Here  was  a  man  whom  some  great 
good  fortune  had  made  for  the  moment  entirely  happy. 


DIABOLISM.  429 

"  Good!"  I  exclaimed  with  a  laugh.  "  Here  you  are,  with  the 
air  of  a  general  who  has  just  whipped  the  enemy,  and  cut  him 
to  pieces,  after  a  desperate  struggle." 

"  Ah  ?"  was  his  reply  with  a  dazzling  look  ;  "  do  you  think  so, 
Surry  ?     Am  I  then  so  gay  ?" 

"  You  are  positively  radiant,  my  dear  Mordaunt !  Come,  tell 
me  all  about  it!" 

"About   what,   my  dear,    fanciful  Surry?      Upon  my  word, 
you  make  me  think,  as  I  look  at  you,  that  one  of  my  old  maxims 
is  more  than  ever  true." 
"  What  is  that  ?" 

"  That  when  we  are  happy  ourselves,  the  whole  world  seems 
to  be  as  fortunate,  and  every  face  beams  with  smiles!" 

"  Pshaw !  Mordaunt — stop  all  that  talk.     Your  eyes  are  really 
dazzling — you  laugh  at  any  and  every  thing.    Explain !  explain  !" 
"  I  really  have  not  time,  Surry,  even  if  I  had  any  thing  to  tell 
you." 

"  What!  are  the  enemy  advancing?" 

"  No,  but  I  have  an  engagement.  I  am  waiting  for  a  gentle- 
man who  has  an  appointment  with  me  in  half  an  hour  from  this 
time." 

"  Ah  ?  Can  you  mean—  ?" 

"  Our  young  friend  Harry  Saltoun  ?  Certainly  :  you  remember 
my  promise  to  him  ?" 

"  And  this  evening  he  is  to  meet  you  here?" 
"Precisely — and  hold!  yonder  he  comes,  before  the  hour!" 
As  Mordaunt  spoke,  the  young  officer  was  seen  approaching 
from  the  river ;  and  very  soon  he  had  reached  the  spot  where 
we  stood.  Dismounting,  he  approached  with  a  firm  tread,  and 
saluted  in  turn  both  Mordaunt  and  myself.  His  air  was  grave, 
stern,  and  resolute — his  face  gloomy  and  rigid — his  eyes  steady 
and  determined,  but  without  menace.  He  seemed  to  feel  that'he 
was  near  the  accomplishment  of  his  object,  and  was  resolved  to 
go  through  with  the  work  before  him,  without  passion  or  any 
thing  like  a  scene. 

Mordaunt  greeted  him  with  grave  and  stately  courtesy,  bow- 
ing low  in  reply  to  his  salute.     As  they  thus  stood  facing  each 


430  SURRY  OF  EAGLE'S-NEST. 

other — the  youth  with  his  slender  figure,  his  elegant  propor- 
tions, his  classic  face,  and  collected  look — the  elder  with  his  tall 
and  athletic  form,  his  face  of  bronze,  and  his  proud  and  noble 
glance — I  thought  that  they  were  the  most  magnificent  types 
of  youth  and  middle  age  which  I  had  ever  met  with. 

"  You  are  punctual,  Lieutenant  Saltoun,"  said  Hordauht,  in  the 
same  grave  and  courteous  tone ;  "  it  is  the  politeness  of  kings 
and  of  gentlemen." 

Saltoun  bowed,  but  said  nothing. 

"Will  you  come  into  my  tent,  sir?"  continued  Mordaunt. 
"  Before  making  the  arrangements  which  we  have  agreed  upon, 
I  wish  to  say  a  very  few  words  to  you." 

The  young  man's  face  exhibited  a  gloomy  surprise  at  these 
words,  but  he  simply  inclined  his  head,  and,  entering  the  tent, 
sat  down. 

"  Will  you  do  me  the  favor  to  be  present  at  this  interview, 
Colonel  Surry  ?"  said  Mordaunt,  as  I  made  a  step  toward  my 
horse ;  "  I  particularly  desire  it,  and  request  Lieutenant  Saltoun 
to  agree  to  my  wishes." 

The  young  man  slightly  inclined  his  head — his  eyes  had  never 
relaxed  their  steady  and  gloomy  expression — and  I  followed 
Mordaunt  into  the  tent. 

He  unbuckled  his  belt  and  laid  his  arms  upon  a  desk,  then 
leaning  his  head  upon  his  hand,  he  said,  after  a  brief  silence,  and 
in  the  same  grave  tone,  as  he  gazed  with  a  strange  expression  at 
the  youth : 

"Before  proceeding  to  make  arrangements  for  the  meeting 
which  you  wish,  Lieutenant  Saltoun,  I  beg  that  you  will  listen  to 
a  few  words  which  it  becomes  my  duty  to  pronounce.  I  am  thirty- 
eight  years  old,  sir,  and  thus  many  years  your  senior.  I  have 
seen  in  my  time  the  death  of  many  human  beings,  here  and  in 
the  old  world.  I  do  not  like  blood,  and  especially  sbrink  from 
myself  shedding  it :  hence,  I  am  compelled,  sir,  by  my  con- 
science— even  though  I  offend  against  every  rule  of  the  code — to 
ask  that  you  will  give  me,  as  gentleman  to  gentleman,  some 
explanation  of  your  motive  in  thus  defying  me  to  mortal  com- 
bat." 


DIABOLISM.  431 

He  paused,  and  for  an  instant  silence  reigned.  Then,  in  a 
cold  and  gloomy  voiee,  just  touched  with  a  sneer  : 

"  Is  it  necessary  to  explain  what  an  insult  means,  Colonel  Mor- 
daunt?" said  the  young  man.  "I  choose  to  offer  you  a  defiance, 
and  you  choose  to  accept  it,  as  I  expected.  Therefore,  you 
fight!" 

"  I  must  fight  !"  exclaimed  Mordaunt.  "  And  for  a  word,  a 
groundless  taunt,  I  must  kill  you  ! " 

"Are  you  about  to  break  your  word,  sir?"  exclaimed  the 
young  man  with  a  fiery  glance.     "  Beware,  sir!" 

"Do  not  threaten  me,  Lieutenant  Saltoun,"  was  the  grave  re- 
ply ;  "  you  ought  to  know  that  my  nerves  are  steady,  my  repug- 
nance to  this  meeting  not  the  result  of  timidity,  but  of  genuine 
and  conscientious  feeling.  If  you  think  me  unreasonable,  let 
our  friend — the  friend  of  both — Colonel  Surry— decide.  I  will 
abide  by  his  decision." 

Mordaunt  turned  to  me  as  he  spoke,  and  finding  myself  thus 
appealed  to,  I  said : 

"  There  cannot  be  a  moment's  doubt  of  the  propriety  of 
Colonel  Mordaunt's  request,  Lieutenant  Saltoun,  and  I  certainly 
think  that  you  are  bound  to  afford  him  this  simple  satisfaction 
before  you  meet  him,  for  the  ease  of  his  conscience.  I  declare 
to  you,  upon  my  word  as  a  man  of  honor,  and  the  friend  equally 
of  both,  that  I  regard  your  compliance  as  imperative  in  foro 
conscientiai.^ 

These  words  seemed  to  produce  the  desired  effect  upon  the 
young  man.     His  face  flushed — a  flash  darted  from  his  eyes. 

"Be  it  so,"  he  said.  "I  fight  because  Colonel  Mordaunt  has 
outraged  me — yes!  has  struck  me  mortally — to  the  very  heart !" 

And  something  almost  like  a  groan  tore  its  way  through  the 
set  teeth  of  the  youth. 

"  I  fight  because  he  has  made  me  wretched  by  his  baseness — 
has  offered  me  a  mortal  insult  by  his  action  toward  those  I  love  I 
— because  but  for  him  I  would  not  be  here  with  a  broken  heart, 
an  aimless  life,  a  future  dark  and  miserable!" 

Not  a  muscle  of  Mordaunt's  face  had  moved,  but  his  eyes,  as  he 
gazed  at  the  flushed  face  of  the  young  man,  were  resplendent. 


432  SURRY    OF    E  AGLE'S-NEST. 

"  You  mean  that  I  have  thwarted  you  in  your  affection  for 
Miss  Grafton!"  he  exclaimed. 

"I  have  not  the  remotest  reference  to  Miss  Grafton!"  was 
the  stern  reply;  "there  is  something  more  beneath  this  black 
affair  than  the  love  of  a  girl !  There  is  more  than  rivalry, 
Colonel  Mordaunt — there  is  infamy  !" 

And  with  eyes  which  fairly  blazed,  the  young  man  drew  from 
his  bosom  a  paper  which  his  moist  hand  clutched  with  savage 
earnestness. 

"  You  demand  an  explanation  of  my  grounds  of  quarrel !"  lie 
said  ;  "  you  ask  why  I  hate  you,  and  intend  to  drive  a  bullet  or 
a  sword's  point  through  your  heart !  Well,  you  shall  know,  sir! 
Ton  shall  not  die  in  ignorance.  Read  !  read,  sir  !  There  is  the 
the  record  of  your  infamy!" 

And,  trembling  with  passion,  the  young  man  held  out  the 
paper,  which  shook  in  his  stern  grasp. 

Mordaunt  took  it  from  his  hand,  leaned  back  in  his  chair,  ani 
with  not  a  trace  of  anger,  but  an  air  of  unmistakable  astonish- 
ment, perused  its  contents. 

As  he  did  so,  I  could  see  a  blush  come  to  his  cheek,  his  eyes 
Hashed — then  grew  calm  again.  When  he  had  finished  reading 
the  paper,  he  turned  back,  evidently  examining  the  handwrit- 
ing, then  he  handed  it  to  me,  murmuring : 

"  He  is  not  dead,  then  !" 

The  paper  was  in  these  words,  written  in  a  bold  and  vigorous 
hand. 

"Virginia,  April  15th,  1863. 
"Lieutenant  Saltoun: 

"  An  unknown  friend,  who  takes  an  interest  in  you,  writes 
these  lines,  to  put  you  in  possession  of  facts  which  it  is  proper 
you  should  be  acquainted  with. 

"  Listen,  sir.  You  think  yourself  the  son  of  Mr.  Henry 
Saltoun,  of  Maryland.  You  are  wrong.  Your  father  and 
mother  are  both  dead — the  victims  of  one  man's  ceaseless  hatred 
ond  persecution — following  them  to  the  very  brink  of  the  grave. 
Would  you  know  the  facts  in  connection  with  them,  and  with 
your  life  ?     Listen : — Your  father,  whose  name  you  shall   on« 


DIABOLISM.  433 

day  know,  lived  near  Frederick  City,  and  was  married,  when  he 
reached  the  age  of  twenty-one,  to  a  young  lady  whom  he  had 
met  in  Virginia.  Before  he  made  her  acquaintance  she  had  been 
pleased  with  a  young  Mr.  Mordaunt — now  Colonel  Mordaunt,  of 
the  Confederate  cavalry — who  loved  her,  but  had  never  avowed 
his  love.  Under  these  circumstances,  your  mother,  then  a  girl 
of  only  seventeen,  was  justified  in  accepting  the  addresses  of 
your  father,  and  did  accept  them.  They  became  engaged — were 
married — and  the  happy  pair  went  to  live  in  Maryland. 

"  Now  mark  what  followed.  Your  mother  had  broken  no 
faith  with  young  Mordaunt — not  a  word  of  love  had  ever  passed 
between  them — but  no  sooner  had  her  marriage  taken  place, 
than  Mordaunt  conceived  a  violent  hatred  against  your  mother 
and  father,  charging  the  former  with  deception,  and  the  latter, 
who  was  merely  a  common  acquaintance,  with  treachery.  Pos- 
sibly you  know  Colonel  Mordaunt  personally — if  so,  you  can  un- 
derstand that,  in  a  man  of  his  violence  of  passion,  hatred  was, 
soon  succeeded  by  the  desire  for  vengeance.  Not  only  did  that 
thirst  possess  him,  but  his  whole  life  soon  became  absorbed  in  plans 
to  wreak  his  hatred  upon  the  happy  couple.  To  achieve  this 
end,  it  was  necessary  to  use  caution  and  stratagem ;  and  very 
soon  everybody  was  speaking  of  the  touching  friendship  which 
existed  between  Mordaunt  and  your  father.  Mordaunt  paid  long 
visits  to  his  successful  rival ;  played  with  lain  for  large  sums ; 
lent  him  money  whenever  he  wished  it ;  and  was  apparently  the 
best  friend  of  the  family. 

"  In  a  year  or  two,  the  consequence  of  this  fatal  intimacy  was 
seen.  Your  father  was  a  gentleman  of  the  noblest  character, 
and  the  most  liberal  disposition — indeed  generous  to  a  fault,  and 
utterly  careless  in  money  matters.  Mordaunt  never  asked  for 
the  sums  which  he  had  won  at  cards — lie  took  a  note  for  The 
amount,  without  looking  at  it,  apparently.  He  never  demanded 
repayment  of  money  lent — but  he  had  your  father's  bonds.  All 
went  on  as  smoothly  as  possible,  not  a  cloud  obscured  the  friend- 
ship of  the  two  intimates — but,  one  morning  about  two  years 
after  the  marriage,  Mordaunt  asked  for  payment  of  the  sums  d>ie 
him.  A  frightful  mass  of  debt  at  once  stared  your  father  in  tno 
19 


434  SURRY   OF  EAGLE'S-NEST. 

face,  and  he  saw  that  he  was  utterly  ruined  if  Mordaunt  forced 
payment — but  there  could  surely  be  no  fear  of  that !  His  good 
friend  Mordaunt  loved  him  too  well  to  thus  ruin  him — it  was 
impossible  that  he  could  have  the  heart  to  press  his  claims — so 
he  laughed  and  asked  for  time.  Mordaunt  grew  stormy,  and  in  a 
moment  the  smiling  friend  was  a  Shylock.  '  Pay  what  you  owe 
me!'  was  his  unchanging  reply ;  and  even  when  the  poor,  sick 
wife — soon  to  be  your  mother,  sir — went  to  Mordaunt  and  be- 
sought him  to  have  mercy,  he  refused.  The  person  who  related 
these  events  declared  that  she  knelt  to  him,  and  that  he  spurned 
her ;  but  this  is  probably  exaggerated. 

"  Mordaunt's  vengeance  was  now  about  to  be  sated.  He  acted 
promptly.  Your  father's  estate  was  sold  to  satisfy  a  deed  of 
trust  upon  it,  which  his  enemy  held — other  claims  swept  away 
every  vestige  of  property  which  the  young  married  pair  owned 
— and  in  the  freezing  winter  of  1844,  your  father  and  mother 
were  driven  fom  their  home,  and  forced  to  seek  refuge  in  an 
alniost  roofless  cabin  in  the  neighborhood.  Here  they  lived 
with  an  old  negress  who  had  followed  their  fortunes,  and  now 
slaved  for  them — but  soon  her  care  was  not  necessary.  Your 
mother,  broken-hearted,  and  worn  to  a  shadow  by  distress  or 
exposure  to  the  chill  blasts  of  winter,  died  in  giving  you  birth  ; 
and  three  weeks  afterward  your  father  followed  her.  Before 
his  death,  however,  he  had  an  interview  with  Mordaunt,  who 
now  occupied  the  house  in  which  he  had  formerly  been  a  guest. 
Your  father  went  to  beg — yes,  to  beg — a  small  pittance  for  his 
infant  son — yourself;  went  in  rags,  and  humbly,  to  his  former 
friend ;  and  that  friend  rose  from  his  wine,  to  go  out  to  the  door 
where  the  beggar — your  father — stood,  and  refuse,  insult,  and 
strike  him.  When  your  father  sprang  at  him,  and  caught  him 
6y  the  throat,  it  was  the  negroes,  Mordaunt's  servants,  who 
hurled  him  through  the  door,  and  slammed  it  in  his  face ! 

"  I  have  nearly  done,  sir.  The  rest  may  be  soon  told.  Your 
tather  followed  your  mother,  and  you  were  left  a  helpless  infant, 
with  no  friend  but  the  old  negress — with  no  friend,  but  with  an 
enemy.  More  than  one  threat  of  Mordaunt  against  )  on  reached 
tno  old  woman's  ears,   and  fearing  the  power  and   cunning  of 


DIABOLISM.  435 

this  implacable  man,  the  old  negress  one  night  took  you  in  her 
arms,  walked  many  miles  to  the  house  of  a  rich  and  childless 
gentleman,  whose  excellent  wife  was  known  through  all  the 
country  for  her  kindness ;  and  at  daylight  you  were  deposited 
at  the  door  of  Mr.  Saltoun,  and  duly  discovered  by  his  wife. 

u  Yoa  know  the  rest.  You  were  brought  up  as  his  son,  but 
must  have  suspected  more  than  once,  from  some  careless  speech 
or  reference,  that  you  were  not  such.  When  the  war  broke  out, 
you  entered  the  Southern  army — and  a  strange  fate  has  thrown 
you  with  the  murderer  of  your  father  and  mother. 

"  Such  is  your  real  history.  You  may  say  that  this  statement 
comes  from  an  unknown  source,  and  may  be  false  throughout. 
Be  it  so.  The  writer  of  these  lines  must  rest  under  that  impu- 
tation, for  to  sign  his  name  here  would  subject  him  to  the 
vengeance  of  the  man  whom  he  has  exposed.  He  may  even 
know  my  handwriting,  and  I  would  beg  you  not  to  let  it  meet 
his  eye.  One  proof  of  the  truth  of  what  I  utter  I  can  afford 
you.  Go  to  Colonel  Mordaunt — look  him  in  the  eyes — say, 
1 What  has  oecome  of  Frances  CarletonV — and  mark  his  face  as 
you  speak.  Anger  brings  a  flush  to  the  cheek — the  conscious- 
ness of  infamy,  a  deep  pallor.  If  he  turns  pale  at  that  name, 
you  can  form  your  own  opinion. 

"  Mordaunt  is  the  murderer  of  your  father  and  your  mother — 
the  name  of  the  former  you  shall  one  day  know.  I  reveal  this 
mystery,  because  you  ought  to  know  it,  to  guide  your  action 
after  the  war.  At  present  you  cannot  fight  Colonel  Mordaunt — 
he  is  your  superior,  and  would  punish  you  for  even  proposing 
such  a  thing,  unless  you  offer  him  such  an  insult  as  will  arouse 
his  hot  blood. 

"Of  that  you  must  be  the  judge.  Be  cool,  be  cautious,  but 
remember  your  wrongs ! 

"A  Fkiexd." 

There  was  the  letter.  I  dropped  it  in  a  maze  of  wonder. 
What  hand  could  have  framed  this  web  of  incredible  ingenuity 
—of  diabolical  falsehood?  The  father  of  lies  himself  might 
have  envied  the  consummate  skill  of  the  secret  enemy  who  con- 


436  SURRY    OF    EAGLE'S-NEST. 

cocted  this  story — and,  after  reading  the  contents  of  the  paper, 
I  remained  in  a  state  of  stuyid  astonishment  until  I  was  aroused 
by  the  voice  of  Mordaunt. 

"You  see  I  did  not  kill  him,  after  all,  Surry,"  he  said;  "and 
this  letter  is  his  great  blow  in  return  for  my  lunge  that  night !" 

"  Fenwick  I"  I  exclaimed ;   "  did  Fenwick  write  that?" 

"Yes — it  is  in  his  handwriting,  and  here  is  the  date:  not  a 
fortnight  ago.  But  we  will  speak  of  this  hereafter.  I  have 
something  else  to  occupy  me  now." 

And,  as  he  spoke,  Mordaunt  looked  at  young  Harry  Saltoun, 
who  remained  cold,  silent,  and  threatening. 

That  glance  sent  a  thrill  to  my  very  heart,  and  filled  me  with 
vague  and  trembling  emotion.  What  did  it  mean  ?  I  knew  not, 
but  I  knew  that  it  was  as  rapid  and  dazzling  as  the  lightning 
itself. 


CXXI. 

WHERE    MORDAUNT    HAD    BEEN,    AND   THE    RESULT    OP 

HIS    JOURNEY. 

When  Mordaunt  spoke,  his  voice  was  grave  and  measured; 
but  his  eyes  had  still  that  proud  and  brilliant  light  in  them — not 
for  an  instant  did  it  change. 

"Lieutenant  Saltoun,"  he  said,  looking  steadily  into  the  cold 
and  haughty  face  of  the  young  man,  "  in  this  whole  affair  you 
are  the  victim  of  a  plot  so  deep  and  infamous,  that  no  one  but  a 
devil,  in  human  shape,  could  have  framed  it.  Your  lip  curls 
with  incredulity,  and  some  scorn,  I  think — you  naturally  suspect 
that  I  am  going  to  defend  myself,  to  offer  explanations,  to 
acknowledge  some  things,  palliate  others,  and  endeavor  to  escape 
the  wrath  of  the  son  by  smoothing  over  my  treatment  of  the 
father.  Not  at  all,  sir — I  have  not  the  least  intention  of  doing 
any  thing  of  the  sort.  That  father,  you  believe  in,  never  had 
any  existence.  I  was  never,  in  my  life,  near  Frederick  City, 
until  I  went  there  at  the  head  of  my  regiment,  last  year ;  your 


WHERE    MORDAUNT    HAD    BEEN.        437 

mother's  name   was   Frances   Carleton — and  that  is  the  single 
grain  of  truth  in  this  mass  of  devilish  falsehood!" 

Mordaunt's  voice  sounded  deep,  sonorous,  and  rejoiceful,  even 
when  he  uttered  the  name  of  the  woman  he  had  loved.  There 
was  not  a  trace  in  it  now  of  the  gloom  and  reluctance  which 
he  had  once  shown  in  pronouncing  it.  Some  greater  emotion 
seemed  to  have  swallowed  up  every  other. 

"  Give  me  your  attention,  Lieutenant  Saltoun,  and  you,  my 
friend,"  he  added,  turning  to  me.  "  I  design  nothing  less  than 
to  narrate  my  wrhole  life — to  conceal  absolutely  nothing.  Then, 
when  I  have  done,  you  shall  sit  in  judgment  upon  me  and  my 
career — decide  in  what  light  I  deserve  to  he  regarded — and 
then,  if  I  am  to  fight  in  this  quarrel,  why,  pardieu  !  I  will  fight ! 
Yes,  to  the  death  !" 

What  was  it  that  made  Mordaunt's  face,  his  voice,  the  very 
carriage  of  his  person,  as  he  spoke,  so  animated,  proud,  almost 
resplendent  ?     I  looked  and  listened  with  a  sort  of  wonder. 

"  Of  every  word  I  utter,  you  shall  have  the  proofs!"  he  con- 
tinued. "  Oh  !  be  not  afraid !  You  shall  have  a  legal  affidavit, 
if  that  is  necessary,  for  every  incident !  Listen,  then,  and  do 
not  interrupt  me,  until  I  have  finished  my  relation  !" 

Then,  without  appearing  to  observe  the  astounded  looks  of 
Saltoun,  or  my  fixed  regard,  Mordaunt  deliberately — with 
scarcely  a  change  in  his  voice — related  what  I  had  heard  from 
the  lips  of  Fenwick,  on  that  night  in  the  Wilderness.  From  the 
journal  of  the  poor,  betrayed  wife,  he  had  learned  almost  every 
thing — he  had  guessed  the  rest. 

For  more  than  two  hours  the  deep  voice  resounded — the  narra- 
tor continued  speaking  without  interruption.  During  this  time, 
Harry  Saltoun's  face  turned  red,  then  pale,  at  times — he  bad 
leaned  forward  unconsciously  with  a  fixed  light  in  his  eyes — 
some  vague  conception  seemed  rising  slowly  like  a  midnight 
moon  upon  the  darkness  of  his  mind. 

Mordaunt  continued  his  narrative  to  the  very  end,  described 
the  burial  of  his  wife  on  that  night  at  the  Stone  House  near 
Manassas,  and  then  spoke  of  his  bitter  years  of  exile,  spent  in 
looking  for  his  enemy,  and  then  in  fighting  among  the  Arabs,  to 


438  SURRY    OF    E  AG-LE'S-NEST. 

drown  his  wretchedness.  Then  a  few  words  were  given  to  his 
life  in  Virginia,  his  career  in  the  army,  and  his  meetings  with 
Fenwick,  whose  authorship  of  the  letter  was  distinctly  shown. 
Lastly,  he  returned,  all  at  once,  to  the  subject  of  his  wife's  ab- 
duction, and  said,  in  a  low  voice,  which  trembled  slightly,  in 
spite  of  every  effort  which  he  made  to  control  it : 

"The  son,  born  thus,  during  my  absence,  did  not  die — he  is 
alive,  and  well,  at  this  moment!" 

"Alive  !"  I  exclaimed  ;   "  and  have  you  discovered  him  ?" 

"  "Wait,  Surry !  Let  me  proceed,  step  by  step.  It  is  a  train 
of  events  I  am  narrating — hear  me  without  interruption.  This 
time  I  am  going  to  give  you  written  vouchers  for  my  statements 
— here  they  are." 

And  Mordaunt  drew  from  his  breast  a  leather  case,  from  which 
he  took  and  placed  before  him,  on  his  desk,  two  or  three 
papers. 

"The  first  I  shall  show  you,"  he  continued,  "  is  a  note  from 
Miss  Grafton,  received  a  few  days  since.     Read  it  aloud,  Surry." 

I  took  the  paper — it  was  the  same  which  Mordaunt  had  drawn 
from  his  breast  as  we  conversed  beside  the  camp-fire,  four  days 
before — and  read  the  following  words  : 

"  Elm  Cottage, 

"April  19  th. 
"Colonel  Moedauxt: 

"  I  have  just  had  a  visit  from  Mrs.  Parkins,  and  she  has  made 
some  astonishing  disclosures,  of  the  deepest  importance  to  you. 
She  declares  that  you  have  a  son  now  living,  and,  before  she  left 
me,  I  succeeded  in  discovering  that  you  will  be  able  to  learn  all 
about  him  by  visiting  a  Mrs.  Bates,  near  Frederick  City,  Mary- 
hind,  who  is  in  some  way  connected  with  this  mysterious  affair. 
I  think  that  Mrs.  Parkins  went  to  Maryland  to  inquire  into  tins, 
with  the  design  of  obtaining  a  reward  from  you — but  she  has 
now  left  Elm  Cottage,  and  I  do  not  know  where  you  will  find 
her. 

"  You  ought  to  know  this  without  delay — your  heart  has  been 
very  heavily  tried,  sir. 


RESULT  OF  MORDAUNT'S  JOURNEY.  439 

"  This  is  sent  by  one  of  your  men,  who  staid  last  night. 

"  Your  friend, 

"  Violet  Gkafton  " 

"  When  that  paper  reached  me,"  said  Mordaunt,  speaking  with 
an  effort.  li  I  procured  four  days'  leave  of  absence,  and  went  to 
Maryland.'' 

"  Yon  found  the  woman!"  I  exclaimed. 

"  Yes.  and  here  is  the  result." 

JJe  handed  me,  as  he  spoke,  another  paper,  which  I  grasped 
with  eagerness,  and  read  rapidly. 

It  was  an  affidavit  from  Mary  Bates,  of  Frederick  County, 
Maryland,  that,  some  time  in  the  winter  of  1844,  a  gentleman 
named  Fenwick  had  stopped  at  her  house,  with  a  lady  whose 
name  the  affiant  did  not  discover — that  the  lady  had,  on  the 
night  of  her  arrival,  given  birth  to  a  son — been  attacked  by 
puerperal  fever — lost  her  reason — and  was  removed,  the  affiant 
always  understood  and  believed,  to  a  private  asylum,  by  her 
companion,  Fenwick.  The  son  was  taken  by  Fenwick,  a  week 
after  his  birth,  as  affiant  afterward  discovered,  to  the  house  of 
a  gentleman  some  miles  off.  and  left  at  his  door,  with  nothing  to 
identify  the  child's  parentage,  unless  there  was  some  private 
mark  upon  a  watch  which  had  belonged  to  the  lady,  and  was 
placed  around  his  neck  by  her,  in  a  lucid  interval,  when  she 
recognized  her  child.  This  watch  had  been  left  upon  the  per- 
son of  the  infant,  affiant  knew,  and  was  still  in  his  possession, 
unless  Fenwick  removed  it  after  taking  the  child  away. 

The  gentleman  at  whose  door  the  infant  was  thus  left,  affiant 
stated,  was  named  Saltoun 

I  dropped  the  paper,  and  looked  at  Harry  Saltoun.  He  was  as 
pale  as  death,  and  trembled  in  every  limb.  By  a  mechanical 
movement,  he  drew  from  his  breast  the  watch  which  I  had 
brought  from  Maryland.  Mordaunt  seized  it,  and  touched  a 
spring  in  the  handle — the  case  flew  open,  and  in  a  private  com- 
partment I  saw  an  exquisite  miniature  of  Mordaunt — young 
and  fresher-looking,  but  a  wonderful  likeness  still — under  which 
was  cut  in  the  golden  surface,  the  words:  "Fur  my  own 
Frances" 


440  SURRY    OF    EAGLE'S-NEST. 

Mordaunt  pointed  to  it — his  cheeks  flushed,  his  eyes  spark- 
Eng — and  said,  in  a  voice  of  inexpressible  tenderness  : 

"  That  is  the  likeness  of  your  father,  Harry — this  watch  his 
wedding  present  to  your  mother!" 

As  he  spoke,  Mordaunt  opened  his  arms,  and  the  young  man 
fell  sobbing  on  his  breast. 


CXXII. 

BOOTS     AND     SADDLES 

By  noon  on  the  ensuing  day  I  was  again  at  "  Camp  Pelham," 

I  hope  that  the  reader  approves  of  the  summary  style  of 
narrative — the  convenient  elision  of  all  those  scenes  which  are 
either  too  dull  or  too  full  of  emotion  to  admit  of  description. 
"What  writer  is  equal  to  the  task  of  painting  the  meeting 
between  a  father  and  the  son  who  has  been  lost  to  him  fur  near- 
ly twenty  years — who  dare  intrude  upon  that  sacred  mystery  of 
parental  love,  melting  the  soul  of  iron,  convulsing  the  face  of 
bronze,  and  bringing  tears  to  those  fiery  eyes  that  scarcely  ever 
wept  before  ? 

Nor  have  we  time  to  pause  at  every  scene — for  we  are  living 
over  again  an  epoch  crowded  with  vicissitudes,  adventures, 
emotions,  treading  on  each  other's  heels.  In  the  days  of  peace, 
dear  youthful  reader,  you  hang  around  Inamorita,  and  lay  siege 
to  her  in  form.  But  in  war  you  press  hands,  smile — kiss,  it  may 
be — then  to  horse,  and  she  is  gone !  In  peace,  you  follow  your 
friend's  body  to  the  church  and  the  cemetery,  where  you  stand 
uncovered  during  the  solemn  service- — in  war,  you  see  him  fall, 
amid  the  smoke  of  the  conflict,  you  groan  out  "  Poor  fellow !" 
but  you  are  carrying  an  order,  and  you  never  see  him  more.  A 
sigh,  a  tear,  a  last  look  at  his  face — he  has  dropped  out  of  life, 
and  the  drama  roars  over  him — you  forget  him.     War  hardens  1 

Listen!  there  is  the  laughter  of  Stuart  as  he  welcomes  us. 

We  are  again  at  "  Camp  Pelham,"  and  the  red  battle-flag  flaunts 


BOOTS    AND    SADDLES.  441 

m  the  April  sunshine  as  before,  couriers  come  and  go  with  jing- 
ling spurs,  officers  with  clanking  sabres — that  gay  cavalry  sound 
— and  there  is  the  bugle  sounding  the  "  stable  call "  from  the 
camp  near  by !  As  its  loud  triumphant  music  rings  in  the 
wind,  it  seems  like  a  summons  to  the  field  of  battle — where  soon 
it  will  sound  now,  for  the  days  of  conflict  hasten. 

Stuart  greeted  me  most  cordially,  asked  with  deep  interest 
"how  I  had  left  sweet  Evelina,  dear  Evelina?"  and  then  intro- 
dued  me  to  a  tall  and  very  courteous  officer,  wearing  the  uni- 
form of  a  brigadier-general,  who  Avas  attentively  examining  a 
map  of  the  surrounding  region.  General  "William  II.  F.  Lee — 
for  the  officer  was  that  gentleman,  a  son  of  the  commanding 
general — saluted  me  with  cordial  courtesy,  and  the  conversation 
turned  upon  a  variety  of  subjects.  I  don't  intend  to  record  it, 
my  dear  reader  :  if  I  set  down  every  thing  that  was  said  in  my 
hearing,  during  the  late  war,  what  a  huge  volume  my  memoirs 
would  fill! 

There  are  ten  words  of  General  "William  H.  F.  Lee,  however, 
which  shall  here  be  recorded.  I  had  spoken  of  the  passion 
some  generals  seemed  to  have  for  fighting  upon  any  and  every 
occasion — with  or  without  object — and  General  Lee  replied  : 

"  Colonel,  I  would  not  have  the  little  finger  of  one  of  my 
brave  fellows  hurt  unnecessarily,  for  all  the  fame  and  glory  that 
you  could  offer  me."* 

That  would  make  a  good  epitaph  on  an  officer's  tomb — would 
it  not,  my  dear  reader  ?  But  I  trust  that  a  long  time  will  elapse 
before  the  brave  and  kindly  heart  which  prompted  the  utterance 
will  need  a  tomb  or  an  epitaph ! 

"  "Well,  Surry,"  said  Stuart,  "  the  ball  is  about  to  begin. 
Hooker  is  going  to  advance." 

"Ah!" 

"Yes,  look  out  for  your  head!" 

"  He  is  going  toward  Chancellorsville  this  time,  is  he  not,  and 
General  Lee  will  fight  there  ?" 

Stuart  made  no  reply. 

*  His  words. 
19* 


442  SURRY    OF    E  AGLE'S-NEST. 

"I  merely  ask  for  information,"  I  said,  laughing,  "as  Ohan- 
cellorsville  seems  to  be  the  strategic  point ;  is  it  not,  General  ?" 

"  You  can't  prove  it  by  me!"  was  the  gay  reply  of  Stuart,  in 
a  phrase  which  all  who  knew  him  will  remember  his  fondness 
for. 

"  Well,  I  see  you  intend  to  seal  your  lips,  General.  At  least 
you  can  tell  me  whether,  in  case  I  remain  a  day  longer,  I  shall 
have  your  cavalry  as  an  escort  to  the  Rapidan." 

"  Ah  !  you  are  preparing  the  public  mind  for  falling  back,  are 
you?     Wait  and  see!" 

"  Well,  I  accept  your  invitation,  General.  Oh  !  I  forgot.  Miss 
Evelina  sent  her  warmest  regards  to  you — provided  I  did  not 
tell  you  her  name!" 

"  Out  with  it !     Who  is  she  ?" 

"  Her  name  is  Incognita,  and  she  lives  in  Dreamland.  She 
sent  you  this  bunch  of  flowers,  with  the  message  that  she  wishes 
she  was  a  man,  that  she  might  follow  your  feather  !" 

Which  were  exactly  the  words  of  Miss  May  Beverley  at  our 
parting. 

Stuart  laughed,  put  the  flowers  in  his  button-hole,  and  said: 

"  A  man !  I'm  much  mistaken  if  you  are  not  very  well  satis- 
fied with  her  as  she  is.  Well,  give  my  love  to  her  when  you  see 
her,  Surry,  and  tell  her  I  mean  to  be  present  at  her  wedding !" 

The  promise  was  carried  out ;  and,  although  she  blushed 
then,  May  boasts  to-day  that  she  kissed  the  "flower  of  cava- 
liers." 

But  I  anticipate.  Stuart  had  hardly  uttered  the  words  above 
recorded,  when  a  courier  came  in  in  haste,  and  handed  him  a 
dispatch.  He  read  it,  and,  turning  to  General  W.  H.  F.  Lee, 
said: 

"General,  get  your  men  in  the  saddle.     Hooker  is  moving!" 


BOGY,  MOONSHINE,  SNAKEBUG.   443 


CXXIII. 

IN   WHICH   BOGY,    MOONSHINE,    AND   SNAKEBUG   ALL 

"GO    UNDER." 

Stuart  was  in  the  saddle  before  daylight,  and  his  head-quar- 
ters disappeared  as  if  a  wind  had  blown  them  away*  "  Camp 
Pelham  "  was  no  more. 

As  we  passed  through  the  Court-House,  en  route  for  the  Rap- 
pahannock, Farley  was  seen  rapidly  approaching,  and  very  soon 
he  was  in  eager,  confidential  conversation  with  Stuart.  I  after- 
ward ascertained  that  he  had  penetrated  the  Federal  camps, 
procured  important  intelligence,  dogged  the  enemy  as  they 
moved,  and,  crossing  the  river  in  the  midst  of  their  cavalry  col- 
umn, which  he  was  enabled  to  do  safely  by  wrapping  his  oil- 
cloth closely  around  him,  reached  General  Stuart  in  time  to  put 
him  in  possession  of  most  valuable  information. 

As  we  approached  Stevensburg,  a  little  Village  to  the  right  of 
Brandy  Station,  the  long,  dark  columns  of  Stuart's  main  body  of 
cavalry  were  seen  drawn  up  in  line  of  battle  in  the  fields. 

General  TV.  H.  F.  Lee  came  to  meet  us,  and  his  report  no 
longer  left  any  doubt  of  the  situation. 

Hooker  was  moving  with  the  Fifth,  Eleventh,  and  Twelfth 
Corps  of  his  army,  by  way  of  Kelly's  Ford,  and  had  already 
crossed;  General  Sedgwick,*  as  prisoners  reported,  was  ordered 
to  cross  simultaneously  at  Fredericksburg  with  the  First,  Third, 
and  Sixth  Corps,  to  hold  Lee  in  check  there ;  and  General 
Couch,  with  the  Second  Corps,  was  opposite  Banks's  Ford,  below 
Chancellorsville,  ready  to  cross  and  unite  with  Hooker,  as  soon 
as  he  had  passed  the  Rapidan.  As  wo  subsequently  ascertained, 
General  Sedgwick  had  orders,  as  soon  as  the  main  column  crossed 
above,  to  return  to  the  northern  bank  of  the  river  at  Fredericks- 


*  When  I  came  to  this  name,  in  reading  the  MS.  of  these  memoirs,  Colonel  Surry 
said  :  "  I  remember  a  ion-mot  of  General  Sedgwick  about  Stuart,  which  I  have  on 
good  authority.  One  day,  when  he  was  sneaking  of  the  Southern  generals,  he  said : 
'  Stuart  is  the  very  best  cavalry  officer  that  ever  was  foaled  in  North  America  I' " 


444  SURRY    OF   EAGLE'S-NEST. 

burg,  march  up  the  stream,  cross  over  at  United  States  Ford 
opposite  Ohancellorsville,  and  unite,  like  Couch,  with  Hooker. 

Then  the  whole  Federal  army  would  be  safely  across  the  Rap- 
pahannock directly  upon  General  Lee's  flank ;  and  that  com- 
mander must  retreat  upon  Richmond,  or  fight  upon  ground 
selected  by  his  adversary. 

At  the  moment  when  I  went,  in  company  with  Stuart,  toward 
the  Rappahannock,  this  design  was  not  developed:  but  the 
work  before  the  cavalry  was  plain  enough.  Hooker's  infantry 
column  was  supported  by  a  heavy  force  of  cavalry,  under  Gene- 
ral Stoneman — destined,  as  we  soon  found,  to  strike  at  the  Vir- 
ginia Central  Railroad,  near  Gordonsville ;  and  to  check,  if  possi- 
ble, this  dangerous  movement,  was  a  main  part  of  Stuart's  task. 
The  remainder  was  to  hang  upon  the  front  and  flanks  of  the 
infantry,  harass  their  march,  and  impede,  in  every  manner,  their 
advance,  until  General  Lee  was  ready  to  meet  them  upon  his 
own  ground. 

Such  is  a  brief  and  rapid  resume  of  the  situation.  From 
the  generalization  of  the  historian,  I  now  descend  to  that  de- 
scription of  scenes  and  incidents  which  is  the  province  of  the 
memoir  writer. 

Stuart  took  command  of  his  column  and  advanced  toward 
Kelly's  Ford,  where  Hooker  had  already  crossed. 

As  the  sun  rose,  we  could  see  from  a  hill  the  dense  masses  of 
Federal  infantry  crowding  the  banks  of  the  river — their  heavy 
parks  of  artillery  ready  to  move — and  their  glittering  cavalry 
drawn  up  in  line  of  battle.  It  seemed  a  veritable  invasion  of 
Attila.  The  task  of  breaking  to  pieces  that  mighty  war-machine, 
bristling  with  cannon,  bayonets,  and  sabres,  appeared  almost 
hopeless.  Soon  it  began  to  move,  to  the  resounding  music  of 
the  magnificent  bands  ;  and,  above  the  hum  of  the  multitude  and 
the  roll  of  the  drums,  rose  the  clear  and  ringing  blasts  of  the 
cavalry  bugles. 

Did  you  ever  see  three  army  corps  in  motion,  my  dear  reader? 
It  is  a  splendid  spectacle,  and  you  take  a  peculiar  interest  in  it 
when  you  know  that  they  must  be  met  and  driven  back  at  the 
point  of  the  bayonet  1 


BOGY,    MOONSHINE,    SNAKEBUG.      445 

Again  I  recognized  that  day  in  Stuart,  as  T  had  often  recog- 
nized before,  the  splendid  faculties  which  indicate  the  horn 
master  of  the  art  of  war.  An  eye  that  took  in  at  a  glance  every 
trait  of  the  ground ;  a  coolness  in  making  his  dispositions,  so 
perfect  that  it  resembled  apathy ;  but  a  recklessness,  when  once 
engaged,  which  many  would  call  rashness — there  is  what  I  saw 
in  Stuart.  He  handled  his  command  as  the  perfect  swordsman 
grasps  his  trusty  weapon,  ready  to  parry  or  strike ;  and  as  he 
rode  on  to  the  front,  the  exclamation  of  the  men,  "  There  goes 
old  Stuart,  boys!  it's  all  right!"  indicated  that  confidence  in  his 
generalship,  which  many  an  arduous  and  trying  scene  had  im- 
pressed them  with.  They  saw  before  them  the  guiding  mind, 
and  saluted  it,  as  I  did.  In  the  stout  young  cavalier,  so  gay  and 
boyish  upon  ordinary  occasions,  these  fiery  spirits  recognized 
their  master ;  and  the  cheers  which  greeted  him  as  he  went  on  to 
the  front,  said  plainly:   "We  are  ready  to  live  or  die  with  you!" 

In  fifteen  minutes  after  Stuart's  arrival,  his  advance  had 
struck  the  enemy  ;  and  in  front  of  the  dismounted  sharpshooters 
I  saw  the  tall  form  of  Mordaunt,  as,  riding  slowly  up  and  down, 
amid  a  storm  of  bullets,  he  cheered  on  the  men. 

"Look  at  Mordaunt  yonder — always  at  the  front!"  said 
Stuart. 

And,  humming  a  song,*  he  rode  down  to  the  line  of  sharp- 
shooters, which  had  now  become  hotly  engaged. 

"  Well,  Mordaunt,"  lie  said,  "how  are  things  going?  Can 
you  hold  your  ground  ?" 

"  For  half  an  hour,  General — not  longer.  They  are  bringing 
up  a  heavy  force  to  attack  me,  and  I  suppose  I  shall  have  to  fall 
back." 

"  Don't  retire  until  you  are  forced  to.  Who  commands  the 
sharpshooters  yonder  on  your  right?" 

"  Lieutenant  Saltoun.' 


*  Colonel  Surry  expressed  to  me  his  fear  that  these  descriptions  of  General  Stuart'* 
personal  habita  would  be  regarded  by  many,  who  did  not  know  their  accuracy,  as  the 
product  of  the  writer's  fancy.  I  can  myself  testify,  however,  to  their  fidelity,  hav- 
ing had  the  honor  of  seeing  the  groat  cavalier  in  inaDy  battles,  and  of  witnessing  hi* 
peculiarities. 


446  SURRY    OF    EAGLE'S*NEST. 

"  He's  made  of  the  right  stuff.     Look  !  he  is  advancing !" 

In  fact,  Harry  Saltoun,  by  which  name  I  shall  continue  to  cal) 
him,  was  seen  pressing  forward  in  front  of  his  line,  amid  a  haih 
storm  of  balls,  waving  his  sabre,  and  cheering. 

Stuart  galloped  toward  him,  and  was  soon  at  his  side. 

"How  goes  it,  Saltoun  !" 

"Glorious,  General!"  exclaimed  the  youth;  "we  are  driving 
'em!" 

As  he  spoke,  a  bullet  passed  through  his  hat,  and  he  burst  into 
a  laugh. 

"  Look,  General !"  he  exclaimed,  "  the  rascals  have  spoiled 
my  best  hat! — but  we've  spoiled  some  of  their  blue  coats!" 

A  loud  hurrah  from  the  sharpshooters  resounded  as  he  spoke, 
and,  as  the  enemy  fell  back,  a  column  of  cavalry,  sent  by  Stuart, 
swept  down,  at  full  gallop,  upon  their  right  flank,  and  threw 
them  into  wild  disorder. 

We  galloped  to  the  point,  and  found  the  column  in  possession 
of  a  long  train  of  wagons,  which  had  moved  by  a  parallel  road 
toward  the  front ;  and  the  men  were  now  seen  striking  their 
teams  with  their  sabres,  to  force  them  into  a  gallop,  and  so 
secure  the  prize.  Others,  however,  had  yielded  to  the  passion 
for  plunder,  and,  as  I  came  opposite  a  fine  wagon,  evidently  be- 
longing to  some  general's  head-quarters,  I  saw  our  old  friend, 
Captain  Bogy,  dart  toward  it  like  a  hawk  swooping  at  a  fat 
chicken.  At  the  same  moment,  Moonshine  and  Snakebug, 
couriers  at  head-quarters,  who  had  scented  the  plunder,  also  ap- 
peared upon  the  scene — and,  leaping  from  their  horses,  plunged, 
head  foremost,  into  the  wagon.  Bogy  followed,  or  rather  led 
them,  intent  on  booty ;  and  then,  what  I  saw  was  this — three 
bodies,  half  concealed  under  the  canvas  covering,  and  six  legs, 
kicking  in  the  air,  as  the  bold  raiders  rapidly  rifled  the  rich  con- 
tents of  the  wagon. 

Saw  plainly — but  saw  for  an  instant  only  !  Fast  approached 
the  relentless  and  implacable  fate  ! 

Even  as  Bogy's  fat  legs  kicked  the  unresisting  air ;  even  as 
Moonshine's  hands  were  seen  transferring  valuable  articles  to  his 
capacious  pockets,  and  Snakebug's  form  was  disappearing  wholly 


THE    LAST    OF    FARLEY.  447 

\n  the  wagon,  at  this  interesting  crisis  came  the  hand  of 
Destiny  I 

A  line  of  Federal  infantry  swept  forward  at  a  double-quick  ; 
a  tremendous  volley  resounded;  and,  as  I  fell  back  with  the 
cavalry,  I  saw  rough  hands  grasp  the  fat  legs  of  Bogy — sharp 
bayonets  prick  the  astonished  backs  of  his  co-laborers — with  cue 
fell  rush  the  blue  stream  roared  over  tbem — and  Bogy,  Moon- 
shine, Snakebug  yielded  and  "went  under,"  never  more  to  re- 
appear in  this  history. 

They  were  "  game  to  the  last  " — those  brave,  heroic  spirits  ! 
They  stuck  to  their  great  principle  even  in  that  hour  of  peril— 
their  principle  that  "  Yankee  wagons  "  were  made  to  be  plun- 
dered, and  that  every  good  Southerner  ought  to  "  go  through  " 
the  same,  wherever  found,  or  perish  in  the  attempt ! 


CXXIV. 

THE     LAST    OF    FARLEY. 

The  hard  work  had  now  begun,  and,  in  every  portion  of  the 
field,  Stuart  was  obstinately  opposing  the  advance  of  the  enemy 
— sending  dispatch  after  dispatch,  as  the  morning  wore  on,  to 
General  Lee. 

The  enemy  continued  to  press  him  back,  as  their  heavy  masses 
surged  forward,  but  he  fell  back  fighting  over  every  foot  of 
ground,  and  inflicting  very  serious  loss  upon  them. 

During  the  movement,  Stuart  Avas  everywhere,  cheering  the 
men,  holding  his  line  steady,  and  animating  all  by  his  splendid 
gayety  and  courage.  In  the  dazzling  blue  eyes  you  could  see  the 
stubborn  will  that  would  not  bend — the  steady  flame,  winch 
showed  how  dangerous  this  man  was  when  aroused.  In  front 
of  his  sharpshooters  or  charging  at  the  head  of  his  column,  as 
ho  met,  sabre  to  sabre,  the  on-coming  enemy,  Stuart  resembled, 
to  my  eyes,  the  incarnate  genius  of  battle. 

But.   I   hasten   on   in   mv  narrative.     I   cannot  describe    the 


448  SURRY    OF    EAGLE'S-NEST. 

master-movements  of  the  great  commander  of  the  Virginia 
cavalry — vindicating  here,  as  on  many  another  hard-fought  field, 
the  supreme  genius  for  war  which  lay  beneath  that  laughing 
eye,  that  boyish  manner.  I  do  not  even  think  of  Stuart 
now,  when  I  go  back  to  those  days — my  memory  dwells  with  a 
lingering  and  sorrowful  glance  upon  the  form  of  one  who 
there,  in  that  unknown  skirmish,  gave  his  young  life  to  his 
country. 

By  the  side  of  Stuart,  in  the  thickest  of  the  fight,  was  Farley ; 
and  never  have  I  seen,  upon  human  face,  an  expression  of  enjoy- 
ment more  supreme  than  on  the  young  South  Carolinian's  as  he 
rode  amid  the  bullets.  The  soft,  dark  eyes,  habitually  so  mild 
and  gentle,  flashed  superbly  at  that  moment ;  the  mobile  lips 
were  smiling — the  whole  face  glowing  and  resplendent  with  the 
fire  of  battle.  As  he  galloped  to  and  fro,  pointing  out  to  Stuart 
every  movement  of  the  enemy — the  position  of  their  batteries, 
which  now  had  opened  with  a  heavy  fire  of  shell,  and  the  direc- 
tion taken  by  the  cavalry,  moving  on  the  flank — his  eyes  flamed, 
his  cheek  burned  hot.  Never  have  I  seen  a  more  perfect  model 
of  a  soldier. 

"There  they  come,  General!"  he  exclaimed,  as  a  dark  line 
was  seen  advancing  on  the  left,  in  order  of  battle.  "  Oh !  if 
Pelham  were  only  here!" 

Suddenly,  the  fierce  rush  of  a  shell  filled  the  air  with  its  un- 
earthly scream — a  crash,  accompanied  by  a  low  cry,  succeeded — 
and  Farley's  horse  was  hurled  to  the  ground,  a  crushed  and 
bleeding  mass,  which  writhed  to  and  fro  in  a  manner  frightful  to 
see. 

Beside  him  lay  the  young  man — already  dying. 

The  shell  had  struck  him  upon  the  side  of  the  knee — torn  off 
his  leg — and,  as  we  hurried  to  him,  he  was  gasping  in  the  agonies 
of  death. 

"Farley!"  exclaimed  Stuart,  leaping  to  the  ground  beside 
him,  "  look  at  me,  Farley!" 

The  eyes,  over  which  the  mists  of  death  were  creeping,  slowly 
opened — a  flash  of  the  old  fire  shone  in  them — and,  half  extend- 
ing his  arms,  the  dying  officer  murmured : 


THE    ABDUCTION.  449 

''  Send  me  home  to  my  mother  !"  * 

Then  his  head  fell  hack.     lie  was  dead. 

Stuart  gazed  at  him  for  an  instant,  with  a  flush  upon  his  face 
— muttered  something  in  alow,  deep  voice — and  then,  making  a 
motion  to  some  cavalry-men  to  take  up  the  hody,  slowly  got  into 
the  saddle  again. 

As  he  did  so,  I  heard  him  murmur : 

"Serving  on  my  staff  seems  fatal !" 

More  than  ever  was  the  truth  of  this  shown  afterward: 
Price,  killed  at  Chancellorsville ;  Fontaine,  at  Petersburg; 
Hardeman  Stuart,  Pelham,  Turner,  and  others  gone  before 
them !  And  now,  Farley  had  passed  away,  in  the  very  opening 
of  the  fight ! 

The  leg  of  the  young  man,  which  had  been  torn  off  by  the 
shell — boot  and  all — was  placed  beside  his  body  in  the  ambu- 
lance ;  t  and,  that  evening,  I  bent  over  him,  and  looked  into  the 
cold,  pale  face,  with  thoughts  too  deep  for  tears. 

Pelham— Farley — who  would  die  next  ? 

"Farewell!"  I  could  only  say,  as  I  got  into  the  saddle  to 
avoid  capture  by  the  advancing  enemy,  "farewell,  brave  Farley  ! 
Somewhere  yonder,  past  the  sunset  and  the  night,  I  hope  to 
meet  you,  and  see  your  smile,  again  !" 


CXXY. 

THE     ABDUCTION. 

A  stiower  of  balls  hissed  around  me.  as  I  rode  on  with  the 
rear-guard,  falling  back  toward  the  Rapidan. 

I  was  at  the  side  of  Mordaunt,  who  commanded  the  rear,  and 
he  slowly  retired,  in  obedience  to  orders,  showing  his  teeth,  as 
the  enemy  pressed  him,  at  every  step.  Near  by  was  Harry 
Saltoun,  covered  with  dust,  but  "  gay  and  happy  "  as  before. 

"  A  tough  business,  keeping  these  fellows  back,  Surry,"  said 

*  His  words.  t  Fact. 


4:50  SURRY    OF    EAGLE'S-NEST. 

Mordaunt,  coolly.     "  I  don't  like  this  part  of  a  soldier's  work- 
falling  back  in  face  of  an  enemy— nor  do  the  men  like  it." 

"  You  are  right." 

"  The  genius  of  the  South  is  for  attack.  We  do  wrong  in  not 
invading." 

"  And  Jackson  agrees  with  you." 

"  That  is  a  great  compliment  to  my  understanding,  for  your 
general  is  '  the  foremost  man  of  all  this  world !'" 

The  sun  was  disappearing  now,  and  the  enemy  proceeded  more 
cautiously.  Mordaunt  had  much  less  trouble  in  keeping  them 
back — his  command  retired  slowly  in  column  of  fours,  ready  to 
meet  any  assault  with  the  sabre — and  we  talked. 

"  I  have  one  or  two  things  to  tell  you,  Surry,"  Mordaunt  now 
said,  as  he  rode  on ;  "  and  first,  do  you  know  that  we  made  a 
curious  blunder  in  imagining  that  there  was  any  love-affair  be- 
tween Harry  and  Miss  Grafton?" 

"  Ah  ? — and  yet  I  remember  what  he  said  one  day  to  me — how 
he  looked." 

"  After  that  fight  above  Barbee's,  was  it  not  ?— last  Novem- 
ber?" 

"  Yes  ;  when  I  uttered  the  name  of  Miss  Grafton  he  colored  to 
the  eyes." 

"  Are  you  certain  ?" 

"  Perfectly." 

"See  how  treacherous  is  the  memory,  Surry!  You  did 
not  pronounce  that  name  at  all,  my  friend — you  spoke  of  his 
"  nurse,"  under  the  impression,  doubtless,  that,  in  compliance 
with  my  request  made  in  that  note  when  Harry  was  wounded, 
Miss  Grafton  had  nursed  him." 

"Did  she  not?" 

"No — he  has  told  me  all,  not  only  what  took  place  at  Elm 
Cottage,  but  even  his  conversation  with  you." 

"  What  took  place?" 

u  He  was  nursed  during  his  illness  by  another  young  friend  of 
ours." 

"  You  mean —  ?" 

"  Miss  Henrietta  Fitzhugh." 


THE    ABDUCTION.  451 

"  Is  it  possible  !  Now  I  see  it  all.  How  very  stupid  I  was  to 
thus  jump  at  my  conclusions  !" 

"Not  at  all.  Your  supposition  was  the  most  natural  in  th6 
world,  and  it  was  mine  also." 

"  "Well !  well !  So  the  youngster  has  gone  and  fallen  in  love 
with  that  little  witch,  has  he?"  I  said.  "I  might  have  known 
that  he  would — she  just  suits  him — and  you  see,  after  all,  Mor- 
daunt,  I  was  right  in  declaring  in  our  talk  together  at  your 
house,  that  there  was  very  little  probability  of  any  love-affair 
existing  between  him  and  Miss  Violet." 

"  I  confess  that  you  were  right  and  I  was  wrong,"  replied 
Mordaunt. 

"  So  Harry  is  a  victim  to  Miss  Henrietta's  bright  eyes ;  and 
she — does  she  love  him  ?" 

"  At  least  they  are  engaged  to  be  married,"  said  Mordaunt. 

"  Good  !"  I  laughed.  "Everybody  seems  about  to  be  married 
these  times !  And  so  that  is  what  you  had  to  tell  me,  Mor- 
daunt?" 

"Only  apart." 

And  the  face  of  the  speaker  became  overshadowed.  For 
some  moments  he  preserved  a  gloomy  silence,  then  he  said  : 

"  What  I  have  now  to  inform  you  of,  friend,  is  far  less  agree- 
able.    Violet  Grafton  has  disappeared  from  Elm  Cottage." 

"  Disappeared  !     What  do  you  mean,  Mordaunt  ?"  I  exclaimed. 

"  I  mean  exactly  what  I  have  said,  Surry.  The  young  lady  is 
gone,  and  no  one  can  tell  whither,  except  that  her  route  led  in 
the  direction  of  Maryland.  There  is  even  something  worse. 
Her  companion  was  the  woman  Parkins!" 

And  Mordaunt's  face  grew  cold  and  threatening  as  he  spoke. 

"Listen,"  he  said;  "a  few  words  will  explain  every  thing. 
An  hour  after  you  left  me  on  your  return  from  beyond  the 
river,  one  of  my  men  who  had  been  scouting  toward  Manassas, 
and  stopped  at  Elm  Cottage  on  his  return,  brought  a  note  to  me 
from  Mrs.  Fitzhugh,  inquiring  whether  I  knew  any  thing  which 
could  take  Miss  Grafton  to  Maryland,  and  asking  the  character 
of  thitj  woman  Parkins.  The  note  informed  me  that  the  young 
lady  had  set  out  several  days  before,  in  the  direction  of  Mary- 


452  SURRY    OF    EAGLE' S-NE  ST. 

land,  travelling  in  a  small  vehicle  driven  by  that  woman  ;  and,  in 
spite  of  all  Mrs.  Fitzhugh  could  do,  she  had  not  been  able  to  ex- 
tract from  Miss  Grafton  the  object  of  her  journey.  She  main- 
tained complete  silence  upon  every  thing  connected  with  it — 
only  declaring  that  she  was  compelled  by  a  sense  of  duty  to 
go." 

"Good  heavens,  Mordaunt!"  I  said,  after  listening  to  this 
statement;  "as  sure  as  fate,  that  devil  Fenwick  is  at  the  bot- 
tom of  this  scheme." 

"You  are  right,"  muttered  Mordaunt,  and  I  could  see  his  face 
grow  pale,  his  eyes  flash.  "There  is  no  manner  of  doubt  about 
it.  And  to  think  that  I  was  yonder — perhaps  within  a  few  miles 
of  her — perhaps  passing  in  front  of  some  den  in  which  she  was 
a  prisoner!  Surry!"  he  exclaimed,  hoarse  with  passion,  "when 
I  next  encounter  that  man,  I  swear  by  all  that  is  sacred,  that  I 
will  never  leave  him  until  I  see  his  black  heart's  blood  gushing 
out  before  my  eyes,  and  his  face  cold  in  death  !" 

There  was  something  ferocious  in  the  tone  and  look  of  Mor- 
daunt, as  he  spoke — he  breathed  heavily — his  brow  was  cover- 
ed with  icy  sweat. 

"You  understand,  now,"  he  said  more  coolly.  "The  young 
girl  is  in  his  power  at  last — the  victim  of  some  devilish  plot — 
and  I  am  here,  chained  at  my  work — I  cannot  go  to  her  succor. 
But,  if  God  spares  my  life,  I  will  be  by  her  side  before  many 
days.  Then  I'll  settle  my  account  with  that  human  devil,  once 
for  all!" 

"  And  you  could  do  nothing  when  that  news  reached  you ! 
You  could  only  rage  and  submit !"  I  exclaimed. 

"No — something  is  done,"  was  his  reply.  "  I  have  sent  Ach- 
med  to  Elm  Cottage,  to  strike  the  trail  and  follow  wherever  it 
leads." 

"  Achmed  !     Did  you  make  a  good  selection  ?" 

"  Yes.  I  see  you  do  not  know  the  boy.  He  is  like  a  sleuth- 
hound  in  pursuit  of  his  adversary  ;  and,  if  any  thing  can  be  dis- 
covered, he  will  discover  it.  Besides,  he  has  an  additional 
motive  besides  his  love  for  me — you  know  what  I  mean  ?" 

"  Yes,  his  love  for  the  girl." 


THE   ABDUCTION.  453 

"  That  will  spur  him  on,  night  and  day ;  and,  if  any  trace  of 
her  route  is  left,  he  will  discover  it.  He  set  out  in  an  hour  after 
I  received  the  note  from  Mrs.  Fitzhugh,  and  by  this  time  he  is 
following  like  a  bloodhound  on  the  trail." 

Hordaunt's  information  plunged  me  into  deep  and  gloomy 
thought.  Once  more  that  cunning  and  unscrupulous  foe  had 
thus  risen  to  the  surface,  from  that  ooze  of  darkness  in  which  he 
had  been  concealed  so  long — again,  Fenwick  was  actively  pur- 
suing his  love  and  vengeance,  in  spite  of  that  sword-thrust,  which 
would  have  put  an  end  to  any  other  human  being — pursuing  his 
aims,  too,  with  a  cunning  and  success  which  he  had  never  before 
equalled  ?  Truly,  the  sleepless  enmity  of  this  secret  foe  was 
something  supernatural  almost — partaking  of  the  implacable  ire 
of  the  mythologic  deities!  "What  would  be  the  result?  "Would 
the  lion  yield  to  the  serpent — the  eagle  be  pierced  to  the  heart 
by  the  vulture  ?  Would  Hordaunt's  life  be  made  dark  at  the 
moment  when  the  discovery  of  his  son  had  changed  his  whole 
nature,  and  come  like  a  burst  of  sunshine  to  light  up  his  gloomy 
life? 

"It  is  impossible!"  I  murmured;  "  the  Almighty  would  not 
permit  such  an  enormity  I" 

An  hour  afterward  I  had  left  Mordaunt  to  join  General  Stuart 
again,  having  first  received  a  promise  from  him  that,  if  any  intel- 
ligence reached  him  in  relation  to  Miss  Grafton,  he  would  send 
me  word.  "When  I  pressed  his  strong  hand,  the  nerves  were  as 
firm  and  collected  as  ever — but  upon  his  swarthy  face  I  saw  the 
ineradicable  traces  of  love,  and  approaching  vengeance. 

Rejoining  Stuart  on  the  road  to  Raccoon  Ford,  I  found  him 
giving  orders  to  General  "W.  H.  F.  Lee  to  fall  back  with  his 
column  in  the  direction  of  Gordonsville,  to  protect  the  Central 
Railroad  from  Stoneman's  great  cavalry  raid.  How  vigorously 
and  successfully  this  work  wasaocomplished  is  known  to  all.  With 
a  small  and  half-armed  body  of  cavalry,  mounted  upon  broken- 
down  horses,  Lee  met,  repulsed,  and  drove  back  to  the  Rapidan 
the  great  force  of  Stoneman.  "With  any  thing  like  an  equal 
body  of  cavalry,  he  would  have  cut  off  and  captured  the  whole 
command. 


454  SURRY    OF   EAGLE'S-NEST. 

Before  midnight  I  had  crossed  at  Raccoon  Ford  with  Stuart, 
and  we  were  galloping  toward  Ohancellorsville. 

Hooker  had  passed  the  Rapidan  at  Gernianna  Ford,  a»4  was 
hastening  on  in  the  same  direction. 


CXXYI. 

HOOKER    IN    HIS    DEN. 

The  events  which  I  have  just  narrated  took  place  on  Wednes 
day,  the  28th  of  April,  and  on  Thursday  morning  the  advance 
corps  of  the  Federal  column  from  Kelly's  Ford  was  in  line  of 
battle  near  Ohancellorsville. 

Sedgwick  had  also  crossed  at  Fredericksburg,  to  hold  Lee  in 
check  there  ;  and  Jackson  had  drawn  up  his  corps  to  meet  him. 

On  Thursday  evening,  however,  it  became  apparent  that 
General  Sedgwick's  movement  was  merely  a  demonstration  to 
cover  Hooker's  main  advance  above,  and  Jackson  was  ordered  to 
leave  one  division  at  Fredericksburg,  and  with  the  rest  move 
rapidly  toward  Ohancellorsville. 

The  order  of  General  Lee  directed  him  to  "  attack  and  repulse 
the  enemy."  To  carry  out  this  order,  he  had  about  ten  or 
fifteen  thousand  men.  General  Hooker  had  about  one  hundred 
and  twenty  thousand. 

Jackson  moved  at  midnight,  on  Thursday,  toward  Ohancellors- 
ville, and  at  daylight  reached  the  Tabernacle  Church,  within  a 
few  miles  of  the  place,  where  he  was  joined  by  a  division  and 
two  brigades  under  Anderson,  which  had  fallen  back  before  the 
enemy  from  the  Rappahannock. 

As  soon  as  he  received  this  re-enforcement,  and  all  was  ready, 
Jackson  formed  line  of  battle  across  the  plank-road  leading 
through  the  Wilderness,  and  steadily  advanced  to  assail  the 
enemy. 

Hooker's  position  was  almost  impregnable.  He  had  rapidly 
thrown  up  heavy  works  fronting  west,  south,  and  east,  with  the 
Ohancellorsville  house  behind  the  centre — and  in  front  of  these 


HOOKER    IN    HIS    DEN.  455 

defences  the  thickets  of  this  strange  country  had  been  cut  down, 
so  as  to  form  a  bristling  abatis,  and  prevent  all  approach. 
Beyond  this  abatis  was  the  dense,  tangled,  impassable  under- 
growth, penetrated  only  by  a  few  narrow  roads — and  these 
avenues  were  commanded  by  the  grim  muzzles  of  artillery. 

Hooker  was  a  veritable  tiger  in  his  lair — Lee  would  attack  at 
his  peril — and  Jackson  soon  found  that  he  could  not  drive  his  ad- 
versary from  this  formidable  stronghold.  His  advance  came 
6peedily  in  contact  with  the  enemy's  works,  and  a  hurricane  of 
shell  tore  through  the  ranks,  indicting  considerable  loss.  To 
advance  and  charge  the  works  was  absolutely  impossible — the 
thickets  were  impenetrable — and,  after  carrying  on  a  desultory 
warfare  for  some  hours,  Jackson  gave  up  the  attempt  to  assail 
Hooker  from  that  quarter,  and  waited  for  the  arrival  of  General 
Lee. 

The  commanding  general  arrived  at  nightfall,  having  left  only  a 
small  force  to  hold  the  heights  of  Fredericksburg;  and  Jackson 
and  himself  were  speedily  in  consultation.  The  condition  of 
affairs  was  critical.  Longstreet's  corps  was  at  Suffolk,  below 
Richmond,  and  Lee  had  less  than  thirty-five  thousand  troops 
with  which  to  attack  an  enemy  numbering  one  hundred  and  fifty 
thousand,  behind  impregnable  earthworks.  And  yet  that  attack 
must  be  made — Hooker  must  be  driven  from  Chancellorsville,  or 
Lee  must  retreat. 

It  was  under  these  circumstances  that  Jackson  suggested  an 
attempt  to  turn,  by  a  swift  and  secret  march,  the  right  flank  of 
the  enemy  west  of  Chancellorsville,  while  another  column 
attacked  in  front.  Colonel  Pendleton,  the  chief  of  staff,  in- 
formed me  that  this  suggestion  was  Jackson's — and  it  was 
adopted  by  General  Lee. 

On  the  same  night,  every  preparation  was  made  for  the  move- 
ment. 

Amid  the  weird  shades  of  the  Wilderness,  the  two  formidable 
adversaries  were  now  about  to  close  in  a  breast- to- breast  con- 
flict. 


456  SURRY    OF    E  AGLE'S-NEST. 

CXXVII. 

THE    WING    OF    THE    DEATH-ANGEL. 

Eveky  incident  of  that  period  is  now  engraved  upon  my 
memory  in  characters  which  no  lapse  of  time  can  efface.  I  had 
reached  the  most  tragic  moment  of  a  hloody  epoch — the  great 
figure  I  had  followed  so  long  was  about  to  disappear  amid  the 
lurid  smoke  of  battle — and,  going  back  in  memory  to  those  hours, 
I  recall  every  event,  every  word,  every  glance,  to  be  treasured 
up  forever  in  the  depths  of  the  heart. 

It  was  the  night  preceding  the  great  flank-march  which  was 
to  overthrow  and  break  in  pieces  the  strength  of  Hooker. 
Jackson,  weary  with  his  hard  day's  fighting,  and  his  long  and 
anxious  consultation  with  General  Lee,  stretched  himself  flat 
upon  his  breast,  by  a  camp-fire,  beneath  a  tree,  and  seemed  about 
to  fall  asleep. 

Looking  at  him,  I  observed  that  he  was  lying  upon  the  bare 
ground,  and  I  called  his  attention  to  the  fact,  telling  him  that 
he  would  certainly  take  cold. 

"I  reckon  not,  Colonel!"  was  his  reply.  "  I  am  used  to  it.  I 
am  really  tired  out,  and  have  left  behind  my  oil-cloth  and 
blankets." 

"  Then  take  my  cloth  and  cape,  General.  I  insist  that  you 
shall  use  them." 

"No,  I  really  cannot  think  of  such  a  thing!"  was  his  cour- 
teous reply ;  but  I  insisted,  declaring  that  my  English  saddle- 
cloth Avas  quite  sufficient  to  protect  me  from  the  damp  of  the 
ground — and  at  last  the  General  yielded. 

He  lay  down  on  my  "Yankee  oil-cloth,"  and  I  threw  over  him 
my  gray  cape.  Then,  spreading  my  felt  saddle-cloth  near  the 
fire,  a  few  feet  off,  I  lay  down  in  my  turn,  and  began  to  reflect 
— chiefly,  I  think,  upon  May  Beverley,  though  at  times  upon  the 
fate  of  poor  Farley. 

During  this  time,  I  thought  that  General  Jackson  was  asleep, 
and,  in  moving  the  logs  on  the  fire  to  make  the  blaze  brighter, 


WING    OF    TEE    DEATII-ANGEL.  457 

did  so  carefully,   in    order  not  to  awake  him.     As  I  was  thus 
engaged,  I  heard  him  say  in  a  tone  of  unusual  softness  : 

"  I  am  not  asleep,  Colonel — you  do  not  disturb  me." 

"  I  thought  you  were  asleep,  General." 

"  No,  I  have  been  thinking — as  you  seem  to  have  been — and 
cannot  close  my  eyes.  Something  tells  me  that  we  will  have  a 
hard  struggle  to-morrow;  and  many  of  my  brave  fellows  are 
now  sleeping  their  last  sleep,  I  fear." 

He  sighed,  and  gazed  thoughtfully  into  the  fire. 

"This  is  a  cruel  war!"  he  said,  in  a  low  voice.  "  Why  was 
it  ever  forced  upon  us? — as  it  assuredly  was." 

"  Our  Northern  friends  differ  with  you  on  that  point,  General." 

"  Well,  we  won't  discuss  it — but  I  never  should  have  taken 
part  in  it,  if  I  had  not  regarded  it  as  just  and  holy  in  its  aims. 
God  tries  the  heart,  Colonel— I  pray  that  He  will  try  mine,  and 
yours,  and  the  hearts  of  all,  and,  if  there  be  any  sin  of  ignor- 
ance or  evil  intent,  may  He  pardon  us  !" 

"Amen,  General." 

"  We  are  very  poor  and  weak,"  continued  the  speaker;  "  very 
hard  and  sinful.  May  he  make  pure  our  hearts  within  us,  and 
guide  us  in  all  life's  journey !  Without  his  favor,  Colonel,  we 
are  miserable  indeed !  What  is  fame,  or  riches,  or  glory,  without 
his  favor?  You  have  heard  me  called  eccentric,  I  doubt  not, 
Colonel ;  and  do  you  know,  at  Lexington  the  young  men  called 
me  '  Fool  Tom  Jackson.'  Yes,  '  Fool  Tom  Jackson,'  "  he 
added,  in  a  soft,  musing  tone,  "  and  all  because  I  made  prayer 
and  religious  exercises  my  main  occupation.  I  thought  I  was 
right,  and  acting  rationally.  It  was  better,  I  believed,  to  se- 
cure the  favor  of  my  Maker  than  to  receive  the  plaudits  of 
men.  So  I  prayed,  Colonel,  instead  of  laughing — thinking  tbat 
time  was  short  and  eternity  long.  I  thought  of  heavenly  things, 
and  the  favor  of  my  God,  more  than  of  what  I  wore,  what 
I  ate,  how  I  walked,  or  the  opinion  men  had  of  me — and  for  this 
I  was  called  a  fool!" 

Again,  the  low  voice  paused — the  speaker  seemed  to  be  re- 
flecting. 

"I  went  into  this  war,"  he  continued,   "because  God  permits 
20 


458  SURRY    OF    EAGLE'S-NEST. 

us  to  defend  our  native  land  and  protect  it  from  outrage.  He 
had  given  me  animal  courage,  and  so  directed  my  steps  that  1 
had  learned  the  art  of  war  at  West  Point — thus  my  duty,  I 
thought,  was  plain.  I  have  done  what  I  could  for  my  dear  old 
native  State — if  I  was  wrong,  may  He  forgive  me !  But  I  do 
not  believe  I  erred.  It  was  duty  no  less  than  pleasure  to 
fight  for  the  land  I  loved.  And  how  I  have  loved  it !  There  is 
not  a  foot  of  Virginia  soil  that  is  not  dear  to  me — not  a  river, 
a  stream,  or  mountain  that  is  not  sacred — and  more  than  all,  I 
have  loved  the  town  of  Lexington,  and  the  beautiful  valley  of 
the  Shenandoah!  I  had  reason  for  that.  Never  had  a  man 
better  friends  than  I  have  there  in  the  Valley  of  Virginia — 
from  Winchester,  the  centre  of  that  warm-hearted,  brave  and 
patriotic  people,  to  Lexington,  where  I  hope  to  rest  when  I  die. 
The  love  of  these  good  people  is  my  greatest  consolation  in  life 
— and  I  love  them  much  in  return.  I  have  fought  for  the 
women  and  children  of  the  Shenandoah  Valley,  Colonel,  and 
I   am  ready  to  die  for  them  ! " 

"  You  know  how  they  regard  you,  General — but  I  hope  you 
will  not  soon  be  called  upon  to  give  them  so  great  a  proof  of 
your  affection  as  by  dying  for  them." 

"  Who  knows,  Colonel  ?  War  is  uncertain — battle  dangerous 
You  or  I  may  fall  without  an  instant's  warning." 

"  That  is  true,  General — all  things  may  happen — even  the 
Confederacy  be  overthrown.  We  are  now  at  the  year  1863. 
Who  knows  but  that  in  1864,  or  1865,  the  Federal  Government 
will  be  able  to  bring  such  overwhelming  numbers  into  the  field, 
that  we  shall  be  obliged  to  succumb  to  those  numbers,  in  spite 
of  all  our  efforts." 

"  God  only  knows  the  future,  "  was  his  reply ;  "  and  He 
will  direct." 

"  I  trust  in  his  goodness,  General,  with  all  my  heart,  and  be- 
lieve, as  you  do,  that  all  He  does  is  for  the  best.  But  it  would 
be  hard  to  understand  His  almighty  purpose,  if  our  over- 
throw  is  permitted.  Think  what  the  result  will  be — the  loss  of 
all  that  precious  blood — absolute  poverty — perhaps  military 
domination  1     And  worse — far  worse  than  all ! — we  shall  have 


WING  OF  THE  DEATH  ANGEL.    459 

fought,  and  bled,  and  fallen,  all  for  nothing !  "We  shall  have  in- 
augurated a  Revolution — struggled  for  years — and  all  to  hear,  as 
we  return  to  our  desolate  homes,  the  bitter  taunt,  "  You  were 
fools  to  have  defied  the  enemy — you  have  gained  nothing  and 
lost  all "— 

— "But  honor!"  exclaimed  Jackson.  "No,  Colonel!  you  are 
wrong — a  thousand  times  wrong !  Suppose  wo  are  conquered — 
suppose  the  South  does  fail — I  declare  to  you  that,  should  I  live, 
I  will  not  regret  for  one  instant  this  struggle ;  not  the  blood, 
the  treasure,  the  failure — nothing  !  There  may  be  persons  who 
fight  for  fame  or  success — I  fight  for  my  principles  !  I  appeal  to 
God  for  the  purity  of  my  motives — and  whether  I  live  or  die— - 
whether  the  South  falls  or  conquers — I  shall  be  able  to  say,  '  ] 
did  my  duty  !'  " 

The  earnest  words  died  away,  and  silence  followed. 

""Well,  I  keep  you  awake,  Colonel,"  said  Jackson,  after  a  long 
pause ;  "  and  I  expect  we  shall  need  all  our  energies  for  the 
scenes  of  to-morrow.  This  country  is  terrible,  and  the  enemy 
are  in  a  magnificent  position — but  we  must  fight  them  !" 

"  The  disproportion  of  force  is  frightful." 

"Yes,  truly  discouraging;  but  God  has  blessed  us,  Colonel, 
upon  many  similar  occasions,  and  in  Him  I  trust." 

"  Take  care  of  yourself  in  the  battle,  General.  You  expose 
yourself  terribly." 

"  Not  unnecessarily,  I  hope,  Colonel ;  and,  if  I  fall,  there  are 
many  brave  souls  to  take  my  place.  Let  us  not  fear  tho  enemy, 
my  friend ;  he  can  do  us  no  harm.  It  is  God  we  should  love  and 
fear — if  He  is  with  us,  man  can  do  nothing  to  hurt  us.  I  may 
fall  to-morrow — it  is  hidden  from  me — God  knoweth — but,  if  I 
raise  my  heart  to  Ilim,  what  are  bullets  and  wounds?  Beyond 
this  world  of  struggle,  uproar,  and  passion,  there  is  a  '  land  of 
calm  delight,'  where  sorrow  never  comes,  and  the  King  of  Kings 
and  Lord  of  Lords  reigns  in  I  lis  majesty.  Oh!  to  see  His  face! 
to  hear  from  His  lips,  '  Well  done!'  May  those  words  be  heard 
by  both  of  us,  my  friend !  Then,  as  wo  look  back  upon  this 
troubled  life,  wars  and  rumors  of  wars  will  appear  like  a  dream, 
from  which  we  have  awakened  in  heaven!" 


460  SURRY    OF    EAGLE'S-NEST. 

The  speaker  ceased,  and  said  no  more.  In  half  an  hour  I 
heard  his  long,  regular  breathing.     He  was  asleep. 

For  some  time  I  lay  awake,  gazing  at  the  recumbent  figure  of 
this  celebrated  man,  whose  august  words  had  just  resounded  in 
my  ears.  It  was  hard  to  realize  that  the  plainly-clad  form  before 
me  was  that  of  a  born  hero  and  master  of  men.  As  I  took  in  at 
a  glance  the  dusty  cavalry  boots,  the  dingy  coat,  the  old  battered 
sabre  which  lay  by  his  side,  and  the  faded  cap  which  had  half- 
fallen  back  from  his  broad  brow,  edged  with  its  short  dark  hair, 
it  was  only  as  a  weary,  hard-worked  soldier  that  Jackson  ap- 
peared to  me. 

Now  I  know  that  I  looked  upon  the  one  man  raised  up  by  God 
in  many  centuries — upon  one  of  the  immortals ! 


CXXYIII. 

UNDER    THE    SHADES   OF   THE    WILDERNESS. 

I  was  aroused  about  midnight  by  the  voice  of  the  General,  and 
found  him  sitting  by  the  fire,  reading  a  note  which  a  courier  had 
just  brought  him  from  General  Lee. 

As  he  did  so,  he  coughed  slightly,  and  I  soon  discovered  that 
he  had  risen  during  the  night,  and,  fearing  that  I  would  suffer 
for  want  of  iny  riding-cape,  thrown  it  over  me,  thus  leaving  him- 
self exposed.* 

"I  thought  you  would  be  cold,"  he  said,  smiling  gently,  as  he 
saw  me  looking  at  the  cape  ;  "  and  I  am  glad  you  have  had  a  good 
nap,  Colonel,  as  I  shall  have  to  get  you  to  ride  for  me." 

"  Ready,  General." 

And  I  buckled  on  my  arms.  My  horse  was  already  saddled 
and  standing  near. 

The  General  then  gave  me  a  message  to  Stuart,  who 
was  making  a  reconnois3ance  over  the  route  which  Jackson 
would  advance  by,  on  the  next  morning ;  and,  having  received 

*  Historical. 


SHADES    OF    THE    WILDERNESS.         461 

instructions  where  I  would  probably  find  Stuart,  I  set  forth  on 
my  mission. 

The  night  was  calm  and  clear.  The  moon,  only  half  obscured 
behind  light  drifting  clouds,  poured  her  mellow  radiance  upon 
the  weird  landscape  through  which  I  rode;  and  from  time  to 
time  the  plaintive  cry  of  the  whippoorwill  was  heard  in  the 
tangled  thickets,  beyond  which  Hooker  awaited  Lee.  The  scene 
was  still  and  melancholy — the  silence  almost  oppressive.  No 
sound  came  from  the  opposing  armies;  and,  as  I  went  along  the 
narrow  and  winding  road  through  the  thick  bushes,  the  footfalls 
of  my  horse  were  the  only  interruptions  of  the  oppressive 
silence. 

All  at  once,  however,  as  I  approached  the  Brock  road,  lead- 
ing from  Spottsylvania  Court-House  to  Ely's  Ford,  I  heard  the 
quick  "  Halt !"  of  a  cavalry  vedette,  and  the  click  of  his  carbine 
as  he  cocked  it, 

''Friend!"  was  my  reply,  and  "Advance!"  came  from  the 
vedette,  who  awaited  me  weapon  in  hand. 

"  Who  are  you  ?" 

"  Colonel  Surry,  of  General  Jackson's  staff.  Where  is  General 
Stuart?" 

The  vedette  turned  to  an  officer  who  had  ridden  up. 

"Lieutenant,  here  is  an  officer  looking  for  General  Stuart." 

"Who  is  it?"  asked  the  voice  of  Harry  Saltoun. 

"  A  friend  of  yours,  Lieutenant." 

And  we  shook  hands. 

"Any  thing  stirring?" 

"  Nothing,  Colonel — all  as  quiet  as  a  mouse.  General  Stuart 
is  a  mile  ahead.     I  will  send  a  man  with  you." 

"  And  Mordauut  ?" 

"Making  a  reconnoissance  on  the  road  to  Ely's  Ford." 

"  Good  luck,  Harry  Mordauut!"  I  said,  pressing  his  hand. 

And  I  rode  on  with  the  guide.  Half  a  mile  further,  another 
vedette  halted  us.  Stuart  had  omitted,  as  usual,  no  precautions. 
Every  footpath  was  picketed. 

"  Where  is  the  General  ?" 

"  On  the  Orange  road,  where  it  joins  the  Germanna  plank, 


462  SURRY    OF   EAGLE'S-NEST. 

sir.     Orders  are,  not  to  ride  upon  the  planks ;  the  Yankees  are 
near  there." 

"  All  right." 

And,  sending  hack  the  guide,  I  rode  on  until  I  struck  the 
Orange  road,  turned  to  the  right,  and,  avoiding  the  planking, 
upon  which  the  hoof-strokes  of  a  horse  could  be  heard  a  great 
distance  in  the  still  night,  drew  near  the  spot  Avhere  the  Ger- 
tnanna  road  debouches  into  the  main  highway. 

As  I  did  so,  the  stifled  hum  of  voices,  and  the  occasional  neigh 
of  a  horse,  from  the  more  open  thicket,  indicated  the  presence 
of  cavalry;  and  soon  I  saw  the  dark  masses,  the  men  dis- 
mounted, but  waiting  beside  their  horses. 

Two  hundred  yards  further  I  found  Stuart. 

He  was  standing  under  a  tree,  with  his  arm  thrown  over  the 
mane  of  his  black  mare  "Lily  of  the  Valley,"  and  the  animal 
had  turned  her  head,  and  gazed  at  him  with  her  large,  intelli- 
gent eyes.  Stuart  was  speaking  in  a  low  tone  to  an  officer,  Cap- 
tain Breathed,  of  his  horse  artillery 

"Look  out,  Surry!"  said  Stuart,  as  he  gave  me  his  hand; 
"  don't  talk  too  loud ;  the  enemy's  pickets  are  yonder,  within  a 
hundred  yards  of  us." 

"All  right,  General." 

And  I  shook  hands  with  Breathed,  whom  I  knew  intimately  : 
no  braver  spirit  ever  fought  a  gun,  or  went  foremost  in  the 
charge. 

"Well,  General,"  he  said,  in  a  low  tone,  as  he  mounted  his 
horse,  "  I  understand.  I  am  to  keep  only  a  few  yards  behind 
the  line  of  sharpshooters  as  they  advance  ;*  but,  if  I  see  an  open- 
ing, I'm  going  ahead." 

"  Good.  I  know  you'll  do  what  you  say,  Breathed.  Get  every 
thing  ready." 

And,  as  Breathed  rode  cautiously  away,  Stuart  asked  if  I  had 
any  orders. 

"  A  message,  General,  in  reference  to  the  movement  in  the 
morning.  Your  cavalry,  you  know,  will  move  in  front  and  on 
the  flanks." 

*  Breathed's  orders. 


SHADES    OF    THE    WILDERNESS.       463 

And  I  gave  him  the  message  intrusted  to  me  by  Jackson. 

"Good!"  he  said;  "that  is  exactly  what  I  designed  doing. 
My  force  is  small,  but  it  will  do  the  work." 

And  Stuart  ceased  speaking,  and  listened. 

"They  are  working  yonder  like  beavers,"  he  whispered; 
"  suppose  we  go  a  little  further  and  listen." 

We  advanced  cautiously  on  foot,  in  the  shadow  of  the  trees, 
and  came  within  sight  of  the  dusky  figure  of  a  Federal  vedette, 
posted  on  the  road  in  the  moonlight. 

"Listen!"  said  Stuart;  and,  bending  down,  he  put  his  ear  to 
the  ground.* 

I  imitated  him,  and  the  quick  blows  of  pickaxes  and  rumble 
of  spades  were  heard  from  the  direction  of  Chancellorsville. 

"  They  are  throwing  up  defences  on  their  right,"  whispered 
Stuart,  as  we  went  cautiously  back  to  where  his  horse  was 
standing.  "  I  am  afraid  Jackson  will  find  the  attack  tough 
work." 

As  we  reached  the  tree  where  we  had  left  our  horses,  a  dis- 
patch was  handed  to  Stuart,  which  he  read  by  the  light  of  a 
single  match  shaded  from  view. 

"  I  was  right,"  lie  said ;  "  Mordaunt  reports  that  the  enemy  aro 
throwing  up  works  across  the  road  beyond  Melzi  Chancellor's." 

"  Where  is  Mordaunt,  General  ?" 

"About  a  mile  from  here." 

The  idea  suddenly  struck  me  that  he  might  have  heard  some- 
thing of  Violet  Grafton,  and,  as  no  reply  was  necessary  to  my 
message,  I  determined  to  go  and  find  him. 

"  I  wish  to  see  Mordaunt  for  a  moment,  General.  Will  I  find 
you  here  when  I  come  back  ?" 

"Probably — unless  there  is  some  movement." 

"Good." 

And,  taking  Mordaunt's  courier  with  me,  I  rode  in  the  direc- 
tion which  he  indicated — following  the  narrow  and  winding 
bridle-path  of  the  Brock  road,  skirted  with  dense  thickets. 


*  Colonel  Surry  stated  to  me  that  he  had  Been  General  Stuart  perform  the  hamo 
manoeuvre  on  the  night  of  the  second  battle  of  Masassai. 


464  SURRY    OF    EAGLE'S-NEST. 

It  was  the  very  route  I  had  passed  over  in  April,  1861. 

Half  a  mile  from  the  Plank  road  I  came  upon  a  column  of 
cavalry,  and  at  the  head  of  it,  on  horseback,  and  wrapped  in  his 
cloak,  I  recognized  Mordaunt. 


CXXIX. 

THE    RETURN    OP    ACHMED. 

Moedaunt  greeted  me  with  a  warm  grasp  of  his  strong  hand, 
and  I  asked,  at  once,  if  he  had  heard  any  news  of  Violet  Graf- 
ton. 

"Nothing  whatever,"  was  his  reply,  in  a  gloomy  tone. 
"Achmed  has  not  returned." 

"lias  he  had  time?" 

"Ample  time." 

"I  hoped  to  hear  something,  but  fate  seems  against  us  1" 

I  had  scarcely  spoken,  when  a  carbine  was  fired  within  two 
hundred  yards  of  us,  by  the  picket,  in  the  direction  of  the 
river. 

"Attention  !"  came  from  Mordaunt;  and  the  sleepy  men  rose 
erect  in  their  saddles. 

"  What  can  that  mean  ?"  muttered  Mordaunt.  "  Some  stray 
scout  prowling  around,  probably." 

Hoof-strokes  were  now  heard  from  the  direction  of  the  firing, 
and  two  men  came  up,  with  another  between  them. 

"Well?"  said  Mordaunt. 

"  A  prisoner,  Colonel." 

"  You  fired  at  him  ?" 

"  Yes,  sir,  but  he  came  straight  on,  without  taking  any  notice 
of  it,  and  surrendered." 

Suddenly  Mordaunt  uttered  a  quick  exclamation,  and,  in  an- 
other moment,  I  understood  the  origin  of  it.     The  prisoner 

almost  wholly  disguised  by  an  oil-cloth  poncho— was  Achmed. 


THE    RETURN    OF   ACEMED.  465 

In  an  instant  Mordaunt  had  hastened  to  him,  and  was  bending 
over,  eagerly,  in  the  saddle,  listening  to  the  Moor,  who  spoke 
rapidly,  in  Arabic,  and  with  obvious  excitement.  lie  wrapped 
his  black  poncho  more  closely  around  him  as  he  spoke,  gesticu- 
lated with  his  hands ;  and,  as  the  moonlight  fell  upon  his  dark 
face,  close  to  Mordaunt's,  I  saw  that  his  eyes  were  blazing. 

Mordaunt  exhibited  an  agitation  which  even  exceeded  that  of 
his  companion.  His  cheeks  flushed,  then  turned  pale — his  eyes 
filled  with  blood — and,  when  Achmed  handed  him  a  paper, 
which  he  read  by  the  moonlight,  I  heard  his  teeth  grinding 
together. 

Suddenly  he  turned  to  me. 

*'  Surry  !  you  know  this  country  ?" 

<;  Yes." 

"  Where  is  the  house  at  which  you  stopped  on  your  way — 
where  you  first  saw  Violet  Grafton  ?" 

"  Within  two  miles  of  this  spot,"  I  replied,  with  a  sudden 
thrill  of  the  nerves.     "Why  do  you  ask?" 

"  Can  you  guide  me  to  it?" 

"  Yes." 

A  Come  on,  then !     Come !  the  game  is  run  to  earth  !" 

And,  hnstily  summoning  his  second  in  command,  Mordaunt 
gave  him  rapid  instructions  for  his  guidance,  in  case  any  move- 
ment took  place  in  his  absence — then  he  put  spur  to  his  horse 
and  set  out,  at  full  speed,  in  the  direction  I  indicated.  Achmed 
followed. 

*'  This  is  the  road  ? — you  are  sure  ?"  exclaimed  Mordaunt.  as 
fie  went  on  at  full  gallop. 

•'Yes,"  I  said.  "Keep  straight  on.  But  what  has  hap- 
pened?" 

"Here  is  the  whole— Achmed  has  ferreted  out  everything! 
That  expedition  to  Maryland  was  all  a  ruse  of  the  she-devil  v.  ho 
carried  the  young  girl  oft* !  After  her  departure,  Mrs.  Fitzhugh 
discovered,  in  her  room,  where  she  had  probably  dropped  it  by 
accident,  the  paper  which  Achmed  gave  me  to-night — and  do 
you  know  what  that  paper  was,  Surry?" 

Mordaunt's  eyes  fairly  blazed,  as  he  glared  orer  his  shoulder. 
20* 


466  SURRY    OF   EAGLE'S-NEST. 

"It  is  an  incredibly  accurate  forgery  of  my  handwriting, 
Surry ;  and  in  it  I  state  that  I  am  wounded — suffering — lan- 
guishing for  some  friend  to  nurse  me — will  Miss  Grafton  throw 
aside  all  rules  of  convention,  and  come  to  the  succor  of  her  poor, 
wounded  friend!  That  is  what  betrayed  her  into  the  hands  of 
this  born  devil  and  his  drab ;  nor  did  the  cunning  of  Fenwick — 
for  he  it  was  who  again  committed  forgery  to  ruin  me — nor  did 
his  cunning  stop  here.  In  that  note,  I  beg  Miss  Grafton  to  con- 
ceal from  every  one  the  object  of  her  visit.  I  am  ashamed,  I  am 
made  to  say,  of  the  request  I  make — evil  tongues  may  slander 
her — will  she  not,  therefore,  keep  her  journey  entirely  secret, 
not  even  informing  Mrs.  Fitzhugh  of  its  object ! 

"Do  you  understand?"  added  Mordaunt,  as  his  powerful 
horse  still  cleared  the  ground  with  long  leaps.  "The  forger 
feared  that  I  would  come,  or  some  friend  of  mine,  and  find  the 
treachery  thus  practised  !  The  whole  affair  must  be  concealed ! 
— and  that  concealment  was  secured — would  have  been  perfect- 
but  for  the  accidental  loss,  by  Miss  Grafton,  of  the  forged  paper. 
Now  for  Achmed!  He  followed  on  the  trail  to  Maryland,  and 
soon  found  that,  after  going  a  short  way,  they  turned  southward, 
and  travelled  toward  the  Rappahannock.  He  tracked  them 
along  their  entire  route — found  they  had  crossed  at  a  private 
ford,  so  obscure  and  unknown  that  it  was  wholly  unpicketed 
—and  then,  for  the  first  time,  he  lost  them  in  the  Wilderness 
here.  He  succeeded  in  passing  through  the  centre  of  the  Federal 
army,  disguised  by  his  poncho — has  pushed  on  with  his  informa= 
tion— and  your  mention  of  Fenwick,  in  connection  with  that 
house  which  you  stopped  at,  affords  the  clue  to  the  whole. 
Violet  Grafton  is  a  prisoner  there,  in  the  power  of  Fenwick!" 

"  You  are  right,"  I  said  ,  "let  us  lose  no  time.  We  are  now 
within  a  quarter  of  a  mile  of  the  house." 


LOVE    AND    DEATH.  467 

oxxx. 

LOVE    AND    DEATH. 

Mordaunt  struck  the  spurs  into  his  horse  as  I  uttered  these 
words,  and  the  powerful  animal  thundered  on  over  the  dark  and 
narrow  road,  between  the  walls  of  thicket  rising,  in  the  dim 
moonlight,  upon  either  side. 

I  led  the  way,  and,  as  before,  on  that  night  of  April,  just  two 
years  before,  when  I  passed  over  the  same  ground,  the  whip- 
poorwills  cried  in  the  thicket — the  owl's  unearthly  screech  was 
heard  from  the  tangled  depths — and  the  scraggy  arms  of  the 
gnarled  and  stunted  black-oaks  resembled  goblin  hands  about  to 
clutch  the  nocturnal  intruders  on  this  land  of  mystery,  and  bear 
them  away  into  the  weird  recesses  of  the  Wilderness. 

Mordaunt  never  relaxed  his  headlong  speed,  and  the  quick 
pants  of  his  black  charger  were  ever  at  my  ear,  driving  me  on- 
ward. But  I  was  as  wild  with  anxiety  almost  as  himself.  The 
thought,  that  Violet  Grafton  was  a  helpless  victim  in  the  hands 
of  the  monster  who  had  entrapped  her,  drove  me  like  a  goad. 
With  bloody  spurs  I  forced  my  weary  horse  to  his  utmost  speed, 
trembling,  as  I  went  on,  with  a  vague  apprehension  of  some 
monstrous  outrage,  some  unspeakable  infamy. 

Mordaunt  was  half  a  length  behind  me,  sweeping  on  like  an 
incarnate  fate-  Wrapped  in  his  dark  cloak,  upon  his  horse,  as 
black  as  night,  he  resembled  the  wild  huntsman  of  the  German 
legends,  following  close  upon  his  prey. 

"  Are  we  near  the  place!"  he  said,  hoarsely,  at  my  ear. 

"  Yes — yonder  it  is!" 

"  I  mean  to  kill  him,  this  time,  Surry !  Not  the  wealth  of 
both  hemispheres  could  buy  his  blood  of  me,  or  make  me  spare 
him!" 

"  And  I  won't  plead  for  him !" 

"  It  would  do  no  good !     Is  that  the  place?" 

"  Yes,  we  have  arrived." 

And,  leaping  the  low  brushwood  fence,  I  spurred  up  the  hill, 
closely  followed  by  Mordaunt  and  Achmed.     The  face  of  the 


468  SURRY    OF   EAGLE'S-NEST. 

Moor,  as  the  moonlight  fell  upon  it^  wore  a  wild  and  splendid 
look,  such  as  no  words  can  describe.  Call  it  the  ferocity  of  the 
tiger,  the  thirst  .of  a  panther  for  the  blood  of  the  wolf.  The 
fierce  blood  of  the  desert-born  flamed  in  that  regard,  and  made 
the  countenance  glow  as  though  the  glare  of  a  great  conflagra- 
tion were  upon  it. 

In  three  bounds  our  horses  reached  the  house,  through  the 
shutters  of  which  a  light  glimmered.  Mordaunt  was  on  his  feet 
in  a  single  instant,  and  had  rushed  to  the  door ! 

With  one  blow  of  his  ponderous  shoulder  he  burst  it  nearly 
from  its  hinges— it  flew  open ;  and,  at  the  same  moment,  a  loud 
explosion  was  heard,  and  a  bullet  whistled  past  me. 

At  a  bound  I  reached  the  door  of  the  apartment,  which  I 
knew  so  well— and  here  is  the  scene  which  met  my  eyes : 

Fenwick,  pale,  emaciated,  with  eyes  bloodshot  and  sunken, 
standing  erect  in  the  centre  of  the  apartment— pistol  in  hand  ; 
and,  in  one  corner,  Miss  Grafton,  with  dishevelled  hair,  trembling 
and  sobbing,  as  she  endeavored  to  tear  herself  from  the  iron 
arms  of  the  woman  Parkins,  who  was  trying  to  drag  her  away. 
Such  was  the  scene  which  a  single  glance  took  in.  Then  to 
that  pause  succeeded  the  roar  of  the  lion  bounding  on  his  prey. 
Mordaunt,  sabre  in  hand,  sprang  straight  at  Fenwick,  and,  in 
another  instant,  the  sharp  point  would  have  pierced  his  heart. 
But  the  blood  of  his  bitter  foe  was  not  to  be  shed  by  his  own 
hand.  Suddenly,  a  slender  form  passed  him  at  a  single  bound  ; 
a  gleaming  poniard  was  seen  to  rise  and  fall ;  and  Fenwick  fell, 
pierced  through  the  heart  by  the  dagger  of  Achmed. 

As  he  staggered  and  fell,  a  loud  explosion  was  heard,  and 
Achmed  uttered  a  low  cry.  In  falling,  Fenwick  had  fired  his 
pistol,  and  the  ball  had  passed  through  Achmed's  breast. 

Fenwick  rolled  on  the  floor,  the  blood  spouting  over  the  hilt 
of  the  poniard,  which  remained  buried  in  his  breast.  Then,  with 
a  last  convulsive  effort,  lie  clutched  a  chair,  rose  erect,  and  with 
clinched  hands,  raised  above  his  head,  exclaimed,  looking  at 
Mordaunt: 

"You  conquer! — I  die! — but  beyond  the  grave — in  death  as 
in  life— hate!  hate!  hate!  to  all  eternity !" 


LOVE    AND    DEATH.  469 

As  the  words  left  his  lips,  the  glare  faded  from  his  bloodshot 
eyes ;  his  hands,  madly  clutching  at  the  air,  fell  powerless ;  a 
bloody  foam  came  to  his  lips ;  and  he  fell  at  full  length,  dead. 

Within  two  paces  of  him,  Mordaunt  was  holding  in  his  arms 
the  dying  form  of  Achmed,  whose  head  was  resting  on  his 
bosom. 

A  few  low  words,  in  Arabic,  to  which  Mordaunt  replied  with 
something  like  a  groan — then  the  young  Moor's  face  was  illumi- 
nated with  a  radiant  smile,  and  his  eyes  turned  toward  Violet 
Grafton.     The  woman  Parkins  had  disappeared. 

Dragging  himself  along,  Achmed  reached  her  feet,  and,  taking 
one  of  her  hands,  pressed  it  closely  to  his  lips,  murmuring  some 
faint  words,  as  he  did  so,  in  his  native  tongue. 

"He  says  he  is  happy,  for  he  dies  for  you!"  exclaimed  the 
deep  voice  of  Mordaunt,  as  he  stood  with  arms  folded  across  his 
heaving  bosom. 

Achmed  seemed  to  understand  that  his  words  were  explained, 
and,  again  pressing  a  long,  lingering  kiss  upon  the  girl's  hand, 
fell  back,  with  the  pallor  of  death  upon  his  face. 

She  caught  his  fainting  form,  and,  for  a  moment,  he  was 
clasped  in  her  arms — his  head  rested  upon  her  bosom. 

His  eyes  opened,  and  he  saw  her  face  wet  with  tears,  as  it  bent 
above  him.  That  spectacle  made  his  pale  cheeks  flush,  his  eyes 
glow  for  tho  last  time  on  earth. 

Turning  faintly  toward  Mordaunt,  with  a  glance  of  unspeak- 
able affection,  he  murmured  some  words,  and  stretched  out  his 
hand. 

Mordaunt  grasped  it,  with  a  strange  tremor  m  his  stalwart 
frame ;  and,  with  his  other  hand,  Achmed  took  that  of  the  girl, 
and  pressed  it  to  his  heart. 

As  he  did  so,  a  smile  of  unspeakable  happiness  lit  up  his  face ; 
his  lips  uttered  a  faint  murmur;  and,  falling  back  in  the  arms 
of  the  woman  whom  ho  had  loved,  ho  died,  with  his  head  upon 
her  breast. 


4:70  SURRY    OF    BAGLE'S-NEST. 

CXXXI. 

THE  LAST  GREETING  BETWEEN  STUART  AND  JACKSON. 

Here  my  memoirs  might  terminate — for  the  present,  if  not 
forever.  All  the  personages  disappear,  lost  in  the  bloody  gulf, 
or  have  reached  that  crisis  in  their  lives  when  we  can  leave 
them. 

But  one  scene  remains  to  wind  up  the  tragedy — another  figure 
is  about  to  fall,  as  the  mighty  pine  falls  in  the  depths  of  the 
forest,  making  the  woods  resound  as  it  crashes  to  the  earth. 
The  hours  drew  onward  now  when  the  form  of  him  to  whom  all 
the  South  looked  in  her  day  of  peril  was  to  disappear — when 
the  eagle  eye  was  to  flash  no  more,  the  voice  to  be  hushed — 
when  the  hero  of  a  hundred  battles  was  to  leave  the  great  arena 
of  his  fame,  and  pass  away  amid  the  wailing  of  a  nation. 

Come  with  me,  reader,  and  we  will  look  upon  this  "last 
scene  of  all.1'     Then  the  curtain  falls. 

At  daylight,  on  the  morning  succeeding  the  events  just  nar- 
tated,  Jackson  put  his  column  in  motion,  and  directed  his  march 
wer  the  same  route  which  I  had  pursued  on  my  way  to  find 
Stuart.  At  the  Catherine  Furnace  he  was  observed  and  attacked 
by  the  advance  force  of  the  enemy,  but,  pushing  on  without 
stopping — his  flank  covered  by  the  cavalry — he  reached  the 
Brock  road,  and,  finally,  the  Orange  plank-road. 

Here  I  joined  him  at  the  moment  when  General  Fitz  Leo, 
who  commanded  the  cavalry  under  Stuart,  informed  him  that, 
by  ascending  a  neighboring  eminence,  he  could  obtain  a  good 
view  of  the  enemy's  works.  Jackson  immediately  rode  to  the 
point  thus  indicated,  in  company  with  Generals  Fitz  Lee  and 
Stuart ;  and  the  works  of  Hooker  were  plainly  descried  over 
the  tops  of  the  trees. 

The  whole  was  seen  at  a  glance,  and,  to  attack  to  advantage, 
it  was  obviously  necessary  to  move  further  still  around  the 
enemy's  flank. 

"  Tell  my  eelumn  to  cross  that  road,"  Jackson  said  to  one  of 


STUART    AND    JACKSON.  471 

his  aides ;  and  the  troops  moved  on  steadily  until  they  reached  the 
Old  Turnpike,  at  a  point  between  the  Wilderness  Tavern  and 
Chancellorsville. 

Here  instant  preparations  were  made  for  attack.  The  force 
which  Jackson  had  consisted  of  Rodes's,  Colston's,  and  A.  P. 
Hill's  divisions — in  all,  somewhat  less  than  twenty-two  thousand 
men — and  line  of  battle  was  immediately  formed  for  an  advance 
upon  the  enemy.  Rodes  moved  in  front,  Colston  followed 
within  two  hundred  yards,  and  ITill  marched  in  colum/i,  with 
the  artillery  as  a  reserve. 

Jackson  gave  the  order  to  advance  at  about  six  in  the  eve- 
ning, and,  as  the  sinking  sun  began  to  throw  its  long  shadows 
over  the  Wilderness,  the  long  line  of  bayonets  was  seen  in 
motion.  Struggling  on  through  the  dense  thickets  on  either  side 
of  the  turnpike,  the  troops  reached  the  open  ground  near  Melzi 
Chancellor's — and  there,  before  them,  was  the  long  line  of  the 
enemy's  works. 

Jackson  rode  in  front,  and,  as  soon  as  his  lines  were  formed 
for  the  attack,  ordered  the  works  to  be  stormed  with  the 
bayonet. 

At  the  word,  Rodes  rushed  forward — the  men  cheering  wildly 
— and,  in  a  few  moments,  they  had  swept  over  the  Federal 
earthworks,  driving  the  Eleventh  Corps  in  wild  confusion  before 
them.  The  woods  swarmed  with  panic-stricken  infantry,  in 
utter  confusion ;  artillery  galloped  off,  and  was  overturned  in 
ditches,  or  by  striking  against  the  trees.  At  one  blow  the  entire 
army  of  Hooker,  as  events  subsequently  proved,  was  entirely 
demoralized. 

Jackson  pressed  straight  on  upon  the  track  of  the  flying 
enemy  ;  and  I  soon  discovered  that  he  was  straining  every  nerve 
to  extend  his  left,  and  so  cut  off  their  retreat  to  the  Rappahan- 
nock. Unavoidable  delays,  however,  ensued.  The  lines  of 
Rodes  and  Colston  had  been  mingled  in  inextricable  confusion  in 
the  charge ;  officers  could  not  find  their  commands :  before  ad- 
vancing further,  it  was  absolutely  necessary  to  halt  and  re-form 
the  line  of  battle. 

Rodes  and  Colston  were,  accordingly,  ordered  to  6top  their 


472  SURRY    OF    EAGLE'S-NEST. 

advance,  re-form  their  divisions,  and  give  way  to  Hill,  who 
was  directed  to  take  the  front  with  his  fresh  division,  not  yet 
engaged. 

Before  these  orders  could  be  carried  out,  it  was  nearly  nine 
o'clock  at  night,  and  the  weird  scene  was  only  lit  up  by  the 
struggling  beams  of  a  pallid  moon.  On  all  sides  the  scattered 
troops  were  seen  gathering  around  their  colors  again,  and  form- 
ing a  new  line  of  battle — and  soon  A.  P.  Hill  was  heard  steadily 
advancing  to  take  his  place  in  front,  for  the  decisive  attack  on 
Chancellorsville,  about  a  mile  distant. 

Such  was  the  condition  of  things,  when  General  Jackson, 
accompanied  by  his  staff  and  escort,  rode  in  advance  of  his 
line  down  the  road  toward  Cbancellorsville,  listening,  at 
every  step,  for  some  indications  of  a  movement  in  the  Federal 
camps. 

When  nearly  opposite  an  old  wooden  house,  in  the  thicket  by 
the  roadside,  he  checked  his  horse  to  listen;  and  the  whole 
cortege,  General,  staff,  and  couriers,  remained  for  some  moments 
silent  and  motionless,  gazing  toward  the  enemy. 

From  the  narrative  of  what  followed  I  shrink  with  a  sort  of 
dread,  and  a  throbbing  heart.  Again  that  sombre  and  lugubrious 
Wilderness  rises  up  before  me,  lit  by  the  pallid  moon ;  again  the 
sad  whippoorwill's  cry  ;  again  I  see  the  great  soldier,  motionless 
upon  his  horse— and  then  I  hear  the  fatal  roar  of  the  guns  which 
laid  him  low ! 

Jackson  had  halted  thus,  and  remained  motionless  in  the 
middle  of  the  road,  listening  intently,  when,  suddenly,  for  what 
reason  has  never  yet  been  discovered,  one  of  his  brigades  in 
rear,  and  on  the  right  of  the  turnpike,  opened  a  heavy  fire  upon 
the  party. 

Did  they  take  us  for  Federal  cavalry,  or  were  they  firing  at 
random,  under  the  excitement  of  the  moment?  I  know  not, 
and  it  is  probable  that  the  truth  will  never  be  known.  But  the 
fire  had  terrible  results.  Some  of  the  staff  were  wounded ; 
others  threw  themselves  from  their  horses,  who  were  running 
from  the  fire  toward  the  Federal  lines,  not  two  hundred  yards 
distant ;  and  Captain  Boswell,  engineer  upon  the  General's  staff, 


STUART    AND    JACKSON.  473 

was  killed,  and  his  body  dragged  by  bis  maddened  horse  to 
Chancellorsville. 

As  the  bullets  whistled  around  him,  Jackson  wheeled  his  horse 
to  the  left,  and  galloped  into  the  thicket.  Then  came  the  fatal 
moment.  The  troops  behind  him,  on  the  left  of  the  road, 
imagined  that  the  Federal  cavalry  were  charging;  and,  kneeling 
on  the  right  knee,  with  bayonets  fixed,  poured  a  volley  upon  the 
General,  at  the  distance  of  thirty  yards. 

Two  balls  passed  through  his  left  arm,  shattering  the  bone, 
and  a  third  through  his  right  hand,  breaking  the  fingers. 

Mad  with  terror,  his  horse  wheeled  round  and  ran  off;  and, 
passing  under  a  low  bough,  extending  horizontally  from  a  tree, 
Jackson  was  struck  in  the  forehead,  his  cap  torn  from  his  head, 
and  his  form  hurled  back  almost  out  of  the  saddle.  He  rose 
erect  again,  however ;  grasped  the  bridle  with  his  bleeding 
fingers ;  and,  regaining  control  of  his  horse,  turned  again  into 
the  high  road,  near  the  spot  which  he  had  left. 

The  fire  had  ceased  as  suddenly  as  it  began,  and  not  a  human 
being  was  seen.  Of  the  entire  staff  and  escort,  no  one  remained 
but  myself  and  a  single  courier.  The  rest  had  disappeared 
before  the  terrible  fire,  as  leaves  disappear  before  the  blasts  of 
winter. 

Jackson  reeled  in  the  saddle,  but  no  sound  had  issued  from 
his  lips  during  the  whole  scene.  He  now  declared,  in  faint 
tones,  that  his  arm  was  broken ;  and,  leaning  forward,  he  fell 
into  my  arms. 

More  bitter  distress  than  I  experienced  at  that  moment  I  would 
not  wish  to  have  inflicted  upon  my  deadliest  enemy.  Nor  was 
my  anxiety  less  terrible.  The  lines  of  the  enemy  were  in  sight 
of  the  spot  where  the  General  lay.  At  any  moment  they  might 
advance,  when  he  would  fall  into  their  hands. 

No  time  was  to  be  lost.  I  sent  the  courier  for  an  ambulance  ; 
and,  taking  off  the  General's  military  satchel  and  his  arms, 
endeavored  to  stanch  his  wound.  While  I  was  thus  engaged,  I 
experienced  a  singular  consciousness  that  other  eyes  than  the 
General's  were  intently  watching  me.  I  can  only  thus  describe 
the  instinctive  feeling  which  induced  me  to  look  up — and  there, 


474  SURRY    OF    E  AGLE'S-NEST. 

in  the  edge  of  the  thicket,  within  ten  paces  of  me,  was  a  dark 
figure,  motionless,  on  horseback,  gazing  at  me 

"  Who  is  that?"  I  called  out. 

But  no  reply  greeted  my  address. 

"  Is  that  one  of  the  couriers  ?  If  so,  ride  up  there,  and  see 
what  troops  those  are  that  fired  upon  us." 

At  the  order,  the  dark  figure  moved ;  went  slowly  in  the 
direction  which  I  indicated ;  and  never  again  appeared.  Who 
was  that  silent  horseman  ?  I  know  not,  nor  ever  expect  to 
know. 

I  had  turned  again  to  the  General,  and  was  trying  to  remove 
his  bloody  gauntlets,  when  the  sound  of  hoofs  was  heard  in  the 
direction  of  our  own  lines,  and  soon  General  A.  P.  Hill  ap- 
peared, with  his  staff.  Hastily  dismounting,  he  expressed  the 
deepest  regret  at  the  fatal  occurrence,  and  urged  the  General  to 
permit  himself  to  be  borne  to  the  rear,  as  the  enemy  might,  at 
any  moment,  advance. 

As  he  was  speaking,  an  instant  proof  was  afforded  of  the 
justice  of  his  fears. 

"  Halt !  surrender !  Fire  on  them,  if  they  do  not  surrender !" 
came  from  one  of  the  staff  in  advance  of  the  spot,  toward  the 
enemy;  and,  in  a  moment,  the  speaker  appeared,  with  two 
Federal  skirmishers,  who  expressed  great  astonishment  at  finding 
themselves  so  near  the  Southern  lines. 

It  was  now  obvious  that  no  time  was  to  be  lost  in  bearing  off 
the  General,  and  Lieutenant  Morrison,  one  of  the  staff,  exclaimed : 
"Let  us  take  the  General  up  in  our  arms  and  carry  him  off!" 

"No;  if  you  can  help  me  up,  I  can  walk!"  replied  Jackson, 
faintly. 

And,  as  General  Hill,  who  had  drawn  his  pistol  and  mounted 
his  horse,  hastened  back  to  throw  forward  his  line,  Jackson  rose 
to  his  feet. 

He  had  no  sooner  done  so,  than  a  roar  like  thunder  came  from 
the  direction  of  Chancellorsville,  and  a  hurricane  of  shell  swept 
the  road  in  which  we  stood.  A  fragment  struck  the  horse  of 
Captain  Leigh,  of  Hill's  staff,  who  had  just  ridden  up  with  a 
litter,  and  his  rider  had  only  time  t©  leap  to  the  ground  when 


STUART    AND    JACKSON.  475 

the  animal  fell.  This  hrave  officer  did  not  think  of  himself, 
however ;  he  hastened  to  Jackson,  who  leaned  his  arm  upon  his 
shoulder ;  and,  slowly  dragging  himself  along,  his  arm  bleeding 
profusely,  the  General  approached  his  own  lines  again. 

Hill  was  now  in  motion,  steadily  advancing  to  the  attack,  and 
the  troops  evidently  suspected,  from  the  number  and  rank  of 
the  wounded  man's  escort,  that  he  was  a  superior  officer. 

"Who  is  that?"  was  the  incessant  question  of  the  men;  but 
the  reply  came  as  regularly,   "  Oh,  only  a  friend  of  ours." 

"When  asked,  just  say  it  is  a  Confederate  officer!"  mur- 
mured Jackson. 

And  he  continued  to  walk  on,  leaning  heavily  upon  the  shoul- 
ders of  the  two  officers  at  his  side.  The  horses  were  led  along 
between  him  and  the  passing  troops ;  but  many  of  the  soldiers 
peered  curiously  around  them,  to  discover  who  the  wounded 
officer  was. 

At  last  one  of  them  recognized  him  as  he  walked,  bareheaded, 
in  the  moonlight,  and  exclaimed,  in  the  most  piteous  tone  I  ever 
heard : 

"  Great  God  !  that  is  General  Jackson  !" 

"You  are  mistaken,  my  friend,"  was  the  reply  of  one  of  the 
staff;  and,  as  he  heard  this  denial  of  Jackson's  identity,  the  man 
looked  utterly  bewildered.  He  said  nothing  more,  however,  and 
moved  on,  shaking  his  head.  Jackson  then  continued  to  drag 
his  feet  along — slowly  and  with  obvious  pain. 

At  last  his  strength  was  exhausted,  and  it  was  plain  that  he 
could  go  no  further.  The  litter,  brought  by  Captain  Leigh,  was 
put  in  requisition,  the  General  laid  upon  it,  and  four  of  the 
party  grasped  the  handles  and  bore  it  on  toward  the  rear. 

Such,  up  to  this  moment,  had  been  the  harrowing  scenes  of 
the  great  soldier's  suffering ;  but  the  gloomiest  and  most  tragic 
portion  was  yet  to  come. 

No  sooner  had  the  litter  begun  to  move,  than  the  enemy,  who 
had,  doubtless,  divined  the  advance  of  Hill,  opened  a  frightful 
fire  of  artillery  from  the  epaulments  near  Chaneellorsville.  The 
turnpike  was  swept  by  a  veritable  hurricane  of  shell  and  canister 
— men  and  horses  fell  before  it,  mowed  down  like  grass — and, 


476  SURRY    OF    EAGLE'S-NEST. 

where  a  moment  before  had  been  seen  the  serried  ranks  of  Hill, 
the  eye  could  now  discern  only  riderless  horses,  men  writhing  in 
the  death  agony,  and  others  seeking  the  shelter  of  the  woods. 

That  sudden  and  furious  tire  did  not  spare  the  small  party 
who  were  bearing  off  the  great  soldier.  Two  of  the  litter- 
bearers  were  shot,  and  dropped  the  handles  to  the  ground.  Of 
all  present,  none  remained  but  myself  and  another  ;  and  we 
were  forced  to  lower  the  litter  to  the  earth,  and  lie  beside  it,  to 
escape  the  terrific  storm  of  canister  tearing  over  us.  It  struck 
millions  of  sparks  from  the  flint  of  the  turnpike,  and  every 
instant  I  expected  would  be  our  last. 

The  General  attempted,  during  the  hottest  portion  of  the  fire, 
to  rise  from  the  litter  ;  but  this  he  was  prevented  from  doing  ; 
and  the  hurricane  soon  ceased.  He  then  rose  erect,  and,  leaning 
upon  our  shoulders,  while  another  officer  brought  on  the  litter, 
made  his  way  into  the  woods,  where  the  troops  were  lying  down 
in  line  of  battle. 

As  we  passed  on  in  the  moonlight,  I  recognized  General 
Pender,  in  front  of  his  brigade,  and  he  also  recognized  me. 

"  "Who  is  wounded,  Colonel  ?"  he  said. 

"  Only  a  Confederate  officer,  General." 

But,  all  at  once,  he  caught  a  sight  of  General  Jackson's  face. 

"Oh!  General!"  he  exclaimed,  "I  am  truly  sorry  to  see  you 
are  wounded.  The  lines  here  are  so  much  broken  that  I  fear 
we  will  be  obliged  to  fall  back  !" 

The  words  brought  a  fiery  flush  to  the  pale  face  of  Jackson 
.  Raising  his  drooping  head,  his  eyes  flashed,  and  he  replied : 

"  You  must  hold  your  ground,  General  Pender !  You  must 
hold  your  ground,  sir  !" 

Pender  bowed,  and  Jackson  continued  his  slow  progress  to 
the  rear. 

He  had  given  his  last  order  on  the  field. 

Fifty  steps  further,  his  head  sank  upon  his  bosom,  his  shoulders 
bent  forward,  and  he  seemed  about  to  fall  from  exhaustion. 
In  a  tone  so  faint  that  it  sounded  like  a  murmur,  he  asked  to  be 
permitted  to  lie  down  and  die. 

Instead  of  yielding  to  this  prayer,  we  placed  him  again  upon 


STUART  AND    JACKSON.  477 

the  litter — some  bearers  were  procured — and,  amid  bursting 
shell,  which  filled  the  moonlit  sky  above  with  their  dazzling  cor- 
ruscations,  we  slowly  bore  the  wounded  General  on,  through 
the  tangled  thicket,  toward  the  rear. 

So  dense  was  the  undergrowth  that  wo  penetrated  it  with 
difficulty,  and  the  vines  which  obstructed  the  way  more  than 
once  made  the  litter-bearers  stumble.  From  this  proceeded  a 
most  distressing  accident.  One  of  the  men,  at  last,  caught  his 
foot  in  a  grape-vine,  and  fell — and,  in  his  fall,  he  dropped  the 
handle  of  the  litter.  It  descended  heavily,  and  then,  as  the 
General's  shattered  arm  struck  the  ground,  and  the  blood  gushed 
forth,  he  uttered,  for  the  first  time,  a  low,  piteous  groan. 

We  raised  him  quickly,  and  at  that  moment,  a  ray  of  moon- 
light, glimmering  through  the  deep  foliage  overhead,  fell  upon 
his  pale  face  and  his  bleeding  form.  Ilis  eyes  were  closed,  his 
bosom  heaved — I  thought  that  he  was  about  to  die. 

What  a  death  for  the  man  of  Manassas  and  Port  Republic 
What  an  end  to  a  career  so  wonderful !  Here,  lost  in  the  tangled 
and  lugubrious  depths  of  this  weird  Wilderness,  with  the  wan 
moon  gliding  like  a  ghost  through  the  clouds — the  sad  notes  of 
the  whippoorwill  echoing  from  the  thickets — the  shell  bursting 
in  the  air,  like  showers  of  falling  stars — here,  alone,  without 
other  witnesses  than  a  few  weeping  officers,  who  held  him  in 
their  arms,  the  hero  of  a  hundred  battles,  the  idol  of  the  Southern 
people,  seemed  about  to  utter  his  last  sigh  !  Never  will  the  re- 
collection of  that  scene  be  obliterated.  Again  my  pulses  throb, 
and  my  heart  is  oppressed  with  its  bitter  load  of  anguish,  as  I 
go  back  in  memory  to  that  night  in  the  Wilderness. 

I  could  only  mutter  a  few  words,  asking  the  General  if  his 
fall  had  hurt  him — and,  at  these  words,  his  eyes  slowly  opened. 
A  faint  smile  came  to  the  pale  face,  and  in  a  low  murmur  he 
said  : 

"  No,  my  friend  ;  do  not  trouble  yourself  about  me !" 

And  again  the  eyes  closed,  his  head  fell  back.  With  his  grand 
courage  and  patience,  he  had  suppressed  all  evidences  of  suffer- 
ing ;  and,  once  more  taking  up  the  litter,  we  continued  to  bear 
him  toward  the  rear. 


478  SURRY    OF   E  AGLE'S-NEST. 

As  we  approached  Melzi  Chancellor's,  a  staff-officer  of  General 
Hill  recognized  Jackson,  and  announced  that  Hill  had  been 
wounded  by  the  artillery  fire  which  had  swept  down  the  turn- 
pike. 

Jackson  rose  on  his  bleeding  right  arm,  and  exclaimed  : 

"Where  is  Stuart!" 

As  though  in  answer  to  that  question,  we  heard  the  quick 
clatter  of  hoofs,  and  all  at  once  the  martial  figure  of  the  great 
cavalier  was  seen  rapidly  approaching. 

"Where  is  General  Jackson?"  exclaimed  Stuart,  in  a  voice 
which  I  scarcely  recognized. 

And  suddenly  he  checked  his  horse  right  in  front  of  the  group. 
His  drawn  eabre  was  in  his  hand — his  horse  foaming.  In  the 
moonlight  I  could  see  that  his  face  was  pale,  and  his  eyes  full 
of  gloomy  emotion. 

For  an  instant  no  one  moved  or  spoke — and  again  I  return  in 
memory  to  that  scene.  Stuart,  clad  in  his  "fighting  jacket," 
with  the  dark  plume  floating  from  his  looped-up  hat,  reining  in 
his  foaming  horse,  while  the  moonlight  poured  on  his  martial 
features ;  and  before  him,  on  the  litter,  the  bleeding  form  of 
Jackson,  the  face  pale,  the  eyes  half-closed,  the  bosom  rising 
and  falling  as  the  life  of  the  great  soldier  ebbed  away. 

In  an  instant  Stuart  had  recognized  his  friend,  and  had  thrown 
himself  from  his  horse. 

"You  are  dangerously  wounded!" 

"  Yes,"  came  in  a  murmur  from  the  pale  lips  of  Jackson,  as 
he  faintly  tried  to  hold  out  his  hand.  Then  his  cheeks  suddenly 
filled  with  blood,  his  eyes  flashed,  and,  half  rising  from  the  litter, 
he  exclaimed: 

"  Oh  1  for  two  hours  of  daylight !  I  would  then  cut  off  the 
enemy  from  United  States  Ford,  and  they  would  be  entirely 
surrounded !" 

Stuart  bent  over  him,  and  their  eyes  met. 

"Take  command  of  my  corps!"  murmured  Jackson,  falling 
back;  "follow  your  own  judgment — I  have  implicit  confidence 
in  you ! " 

Stuart's  face  flushed  hot  at  this  supreme  recognition  of  hi» 


IN"  A  DREAM.  479 

oourage  and  capacity — and  I  saw  a  flash  dart  from  the  fiery  blue 
eyes. 

"  But  you  will  he  near,  General !  You  will  still  send  mc 
orders !"  he  exclaimed. 

"  You  will  not  need  them,"  murmured  Jackson  ;  "to-night  or 
early  to-morrow  you  will  be  in  possession  of  Chancellorsville ! 
Tell  my  men  that  I  am  watching  them — that  I  am  with  them  in 
spirit!" 

"  The  watchword  in  the  charge  shall  be,  '  Remember  Jack- 
son!'" 

And,  with  these  fiery  words,  Stuart  grasped  the  bleeding 
hand ;  uttered  a  few  words  of  farewell,  and  leaped  upon  his 
horse.  For  a  moment  his  sword  gleamed,  and  his  black  plume 
floated  in  the  moonlight ;  then  he  disappeared,  at  full  speed,  to- 
ward Chancellorsville. 

At  ten  o'clock  next  morning  he  had  stormed  the  intrench- 
ments  around  Chancellorsville ;  swept  the  enemy,  with  the 
bayonet,  back  toward  the  Rappahannock;  and  as  the  troops, 
mad  with  victory,  rushed  through  the  blazing  forest,  a  thousand 
voices  were  heard  shouting : 

"  Remember  Jackson !" 


CXXXII. 

IN    A    DREAM. 

Here  I  terminate  my  memoirs  for  the  present,  if  not  forever. 

The  great  form  of  Jackson  has  disappeared  from  the  stage. 
What  remains  but  a  cold  and  gloomy  theatre,  from  which  the 
spectators  have  vanished,  where  the  lights  are  extinguished,  and 
darkness  has  settled  down  upon  the  pageant? 

Other  souls  of  fire,  and  valor,  and  unshrinking  nerve  were 
left,  and  their  career  was  glorious  ;  but  the  finger  of  Fate  seemed 
to  mark  out,  with  its  bloody  point,  the  name  of  "  Chancellors- 
ville," and  the  iron  Tips  to  unclose  and  mutter:  "Thus  far,  n« 


480  SURRY  OF  EAGLE'S-NEST. 

further!"  "With  the  career  of  this  man  of  destiny  had  waned 
fhe  strength  of  the  South — when  he  fell,  the  end  was  in  sight. 
Thenceforward  as  good  fighting  as  the  world  ever  saw  seemed 
useless,  and  to  attain  no  result.  Even  the  soldiership  of  Lee — 
such  soldiership  as  renders  famous  forever  a  race  and  an  epoch 
— could  achieve  nothing.  From  the  day  of  Chancellorsville,  the 
battle-flag,  torn  in  so  many  glorious  encounters,  seemed  to  shine 
no  more  in  the  light  of  victory.  It  drooped  upon  its  staff,  how- 
ever defiantly  at  times  it  rose — slowly  it  descended.  It  fluttered 
for  a  moment  amid  the  fiery  storm  of  Gettysburg,  in  the  woods 
of  Spottsylvania,  and  on  the  banks  of  the  Appomattox;  but 
never  again  did  its  dazzling  folds  flaunt  proudly  in  the  wind,  and 
burn  like  a  beacon  light  on  victorious  fields.  It  was  natural  that 
the  army  should  connect  the  declining  fortunes  of  the  great  flag 
which  they  had  fought  under  with  the  death  of  him  who  had 
rendered  it  so  illustrious.  The  form  of  Jackson  had  vanished 
from  the  scene :  that  king  of  battle  had  'dropped  his  sword,  and 
descended  into  the  tomb :  from  that  moment  the  star  of  hope, 
like  the  light  of  victory,  seemed  to  sink  beneath  ebon  clouds. 
The  hero  had  gone  down  in  the  bloody  gulf  of  battle,  and  the 
torrent  bore  us  away! 

In  the  scenes  of  this  volume,  the  great  soldier  has  appeared  as 
I  saw  him.  Those  of  his  last  hours  I  did  not  witness,  but  many 
narratives  upon  the  subject  have  been  printed.  Those  last 
moments  were  as  serene  as  his  life  had  been  stormy — and  there, 
as  everywhere,  he  was  victorious.  On  the  field  it  was  his  ene- 
mies he  conquered  :  here  it  was  pain  and  suffering.  That  faith 
which  overcomes  all  things  was  in  his  heart,  and  among  his  last 
words  were  :  "  It  is  all  right !" 

In  that  delirium  which  immediately  precedes  death,  he  gave 
his  orders  as  on  the  battle-field,  and  was  distinctly  heard  direct- 
ing A.  P.  Hill  to  "prepare  for  action!"  But  these  clouds  soon 
passed — his  eye  grew  calm  again — and,  murmuring  "  Let  us 
cross  over  the  river,  and  rest  under  the  shade  of  the  trees !"  he 
fell  back  and  expired. 

Such  was  the  death  of  this  strange  man.  To  me  he  seems  so 
great  that  all  words  fail  in  speaking  of  him.     Not  in  this  poor 


IN  A  DEE  AM.  481 

page  do  I  attempt  a  characterization  of  this  king  of  battle :  I 
speak  no  further  of  him — but  I  loved  and  shall  ever  love  him. 

A  body  laid  in  state  in  the  Capitol  at  Eichmond,  the  coffin 
wrapped  in  the  pure  Avhite  folds  of  the  newly-adopted  Confed- 
erate flag ;  a  great  procession,  moving  to  the  strains  of  the  Dead 
March,  behind  the  hearse,  and  the  war-horse  of  the  dead  soldier  ; 
then  the  thunder  of  the  guns  at  Lexington ;  the  coffin  borne 
upon  a  caisson  of  his  own  old  battery,  to  the  quiet  grave — that 
was  the  last  of  Jackson.     Dead,  he  was  immortal ! 

As  I  w.rite  that  page  here  in  my  quiet  library  at  Eagle's-Nest, 
in  October,  1865,  I  lay  down  my  pen,  lean  back  in  my  chair,  and 
murmur : 

"  Have  I  seen  all  that — or  was  it  only  a  dream  ?" 

The  Eappahannock  flows  serenely  yonder,  through  the  hills, 
as  in  other  years ;  the  autumn  forests  burn  away,  in  blue  and 
gold  and  orange,  as  they  did  in  the  days  of  my  youth ;  the 
winds  whisper ;  the  sunshine  laughs — it  is  only  we  who  laugh 
no  more! 

11  Was  that  a  real  series  of  events  ?"  I  say  ;  "  or  only  a  drama 
of  the  imagination  ?  Did  I  really  hear  the  voice  of  Jackson,  and 
the  laughter  of  Stuart,  in  those  glorious  charges,  on  those  bloody 
fields?  Did  Ashby  pass  before  me  on  his  milk-white  steed,  and 
greet  me  by  the  camp-fire  as  his  friend  ?  Did  I  fight  by  his  side 
in  those  hot  encounters,  watch  the  flash  of  his  sabre,  and  hold 
his  bleeding  form  upon  my  breast  ?  Was  it  a  real  figure,  that 
stately  form  of  Lee,  amid  the  swamps  of  the  Chi.okahominy,  the 
fire  of  Malvern  Hill,  the  appalling  din  and  smoke  and  blood 
of  Manassas,  Fredericksburg,  Chancellorsvil.e — of  Gettysburg, 
Spottsylvania,  and  Petersburg?  Jackson,  that  greater  than  the 
leader  of  the  Ironsides — Stuart,  more  fiery  than  Enpert  of  tho 
Bloody  Sword — Ashby,  the  pearl  of  chivalry  and  honor — 1.<  i  . 
the  old  Eoman,  fighting,  with  a  nerve  so  splendid,  to  the  bitter 
end — these  were  surely  the  heroes  of  some  dream,  the  tonus  of 
in  excited  imagination  !  Did  Pelham  press  my  hand,  and  hold 
the  pale  face  of  Jean  upon  his  heart,  and  fall  in  that  stubborn 
fight  with  Averill  ?  Did  Farley  smile,  and  fight,  and  die  bear 
the  very  same  spot — and  was  it  really  the  e*es  of  Stuart  that 
21 


482  SUKRY    OF   EAGLE'S-NEST. 

dropped  bitter  tears  upon  the  pallid  faces  of  these  youths,  dead 
on  the  field  of  honor  ?  "Were  those  spring  flowers  of  Incognita, 
which  lay  but  now  before  me,  real  clusters  from  the  sunny 
slopes  of  Georgia,  or  the  flowers  of  a  dream  ?  "Was  that  proud, 
bronzed  face  of  Mordaunt  real  ?  And  the  blue  eyes,  peering 
from  the  golden  curls  of  Violet  Grafton — were  they  actual 
eyes?" 

It  is  like  a  dream  to  me  that  I  looked  upon  these  faces — that  I 
touched  the  honest  hand  of  Hood ;  gave  back  the  courteous 
smile  of  Ambrose  Hill ;  spoke  with  the  hardy  Longstreet,  the 
stubborn  Ewell,  Hampton  the  fearless,  and  the  dashing  and 
chivalric  Lees.  Souls  of  fire  and  flame — with  a  light  how  steady 
burned  these  stately  names !  how  they  fought,  these  hearts  of 
oak !  But  did  they  live  their  lives,  these  men  and  their  com- 
rades, as  I  seem  to  remember  ?  At  Manassas,  Sharpsburg,  and 
Chancellorsvine,  was  it  two,  three,  and  four  to  one  that  they 
defeated? — and  at  Appomattox,  in  that  black  April  of  1865,  was 
it  really  a  force  of  only  eight  thousand  muskets,  which  Lee  long 
refused  to  surrender  to  one  hundred  and  forty  thousand  ?  Did 
these  events  take  place  in  a  real  world,  on  an  actual  arena — or 
did  all  those  figures  move,  all  those  voices  sound,  in  some  realm 
of  the  imagination  ?  It  was  surely  a  dream — was  it  not  ? — that 
the  South  fought  so  stubbornly  for  those  four  long  years,  and 
bore  the  blood-red  battle-flag  aloft  in  so  many  glorious  en- 
counters, amid  foes  so  swarming  and  so  powerful — that  she 
would  not  yield,  although  so  many  brave  hearts  poured  their 
blood  out  on  the  weird  plains  of  Manassas,  the  fak*  fields  of  the 
valley,  by  the  sluggish  waters  of  the  Chickahominy,  or  amid  the 
sombre  thickets  of  the  Spottsylvania  Wilderness ! 

But  the  dream  was  glorious — not  even  the  wimedicaiile  milnns 
of  surrender  can  efface  its  splendor.  Still  it  moves  me,  and 
possesses  me ;  and  I  live  forever  in  that  past.  Fond  violet  eyes, 
that  shone  once  at  The  Oaks,  and  now  shine  at  Eagle's-Nest ! — 
be  not  clouded  with  displeasure.  It  is  only  a  few  comrades  of 
the  old  time  I  am  thinking  of— a  few  things  I  have  seen  in  the 
long-gone  ceLturies  when  we  used  to  wear  gray,  and  marched 
under  the  red  flag  of  the  South!     It  is  of  these  I  dream — as 


IN    A    DREAM.  4S3 

memory  goes  back  to  tliem  I  live  once  more  in  the  days  that  are 
dead.  All  things  recall  the  scenes  and  personages  of  those  years ; 
and  bring  back  from  the  tomb  the  phantom  figures.  They  speak 
to  me,  as  in  the  former  time,  with  their  kindly  voices — the  pale, 
dim  faces  flush,  the  eyes  flash. 

At  all  times — everywhere — the  Past  comes  into  the  Present, 
and  possesses  it.  As  I  awake  at  morning,  the  murmur  of  the 
river  breeze  is  the  low  roll  of  drums  from  the  forest  yonder, 
where  the  camps  of  infantry  are  aroused  by  the  reveille.  In  the 
moonlight  nights,  when  all  is  still,  a  sound  comes,  borne  upon 
the  breeze,  from  some  dim  land — I  seem  to  hear  the  bugles.  In 
the  thunder  of  some  storm,  I  hear  the  roar  of  artillery. 

Even  now,  as  the  glory  of  the  sunlight  falls  on  the  great  land- 
scape of  field  and  forest  and  river,  a  tempest  gathers  on  the 
Bhores  of  the  Eappahanuock.  The  sunlight  disappears,  sucked 
in  by  the  black  aud  threatening  ciouds  which  sweep  from  the  far 
horizon  ;  a  gigantic  pall  seems  slowly  to  descend  upon  the  land- 
scape, but  a  moment  since  so  beautiful  and  smiling ;  the  lurid 
lightnings  flicker  like  quick  tongues  of  flame,  and,  as  these  fiery 
serpents  play  amid  the  ebon  mass,  a  mighty  wind  arises,  swells, 
and  roars  on  through  the  splendid  foliage  of  the  forest,  whero 
the  year  is  dying  on  its  couch  of  blood. 

That  is  only  a  storm,  you  may  say,  perhaps — to  me  it  is  more. 
Look !  those  variegated  colors  of  the  autumn  leaves  are  the 
flaunting  banners  of  an  army  drawn  up  there  in  line  of  battle, 
and  about  to  charge.  Listen !  that  murmur  of  the  Rappahannock 
is  the  shuffling  sound  of  a  great  column  on  its  march! — hush  ! 
there  is  the  bugle! — and  that  rushing  wind  iu  the  trees  of  the 
forest  is  the  charge  of  Stuart  and  his  horsemen  !  How  the  hoof- 
strokes  tear  along !  how  the  phantom  horsemen  shout  as  they 
charge  ! — how  the  ghost  of  Stuart  rides ! 

See  the  banners  yonder,  where  the  line  of  battle  is  drawn  up 
against  the  autumn  woods — how  their  splendid  colors  burn,  how 
they  flaunt  and  wave  and  ripple  in  the  wind— proud  and  defiant ! 
Is  that  distant  figure  on  a  horse  the  man  of  Tort  Republic  and 
Chaucellorsville,  with  his  old  yellow  cap,  his  dingy  coat,  his 
piercing  eyes — and  is  that  humming  sound  the  cheering  of  the 


484  SURRY    OF    EAGLE'S-NEST. 

"Foot  Cavalry,"  as  they  greet  him?  Look  how  the  leafy  ban- 
ners—red as  though  dyed  in  blood— point  forward,  rippling  as 
they  come!  See  that  vivid,  dazzling  flash  !—  is  it  lightning,  or 
the  glare  of  cannon  ?  Hear  that  burst  of  thunder,  like  the 
opening  roar  of  battle — Jackson  is  advancing ! 

A  quick  throb  of  the  heart— a  hand  balf  reaching  out  to 
clutch  the  hilt  of  the  battered  old  sword  on  the  wall— then  I 
sink  back  in  my  chair. 

It  was  only  a  dream  I 


ft*FW*4?;9 


